The Loganizing of Tony
by Kasman
Summary: Remember those photos on Abby's wall? How about we try some NCIS with a DA chaser...and yes, I do have a very strange sense of humour. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** NCIS belongs to CBS and Bellisario Productions.

**A/N**: This is entirely Alaidh's fault. This…um…intellectual exercise is the end result of a chat the other day (while we were both watching a Dark Angel episode) and flows on from some prior discussions about turning Tony into Logan and, well, here's the dialogue (repeated with permission):

Alaidh: Somebody's gotta shoot Tony in the spine

kasman: : don't even want to think about it

Alaidh: LOL!!

kasman: I'm still cackling over Abby's shotgun-shattered backbone

Alaidh: Hee!

kasman: Do you think she'd swap it for "Tony's shotgun-shattered backbone"?

Alaidh: LOL!!!!

kasman: I'm soooo bad

I'd just like to add something further here. This story came completely out of the blue and is something I never intended to write, having said on several occasions that I would never dabble in NCIS fanfiction. My dear friend Alaidh, who triggered the weird thought in the first place, has been involved every step of the way, and this is a much better story as a result. Her input and assistance have been absolutely invaluable. I would like to dedicate this story to Alaidh…and hope that in future she keeps her weird ideas to herself!!! LOL!

Any part of this story that does not meet with your approval can be attributed solely to Alaidh, so please address all complaints to her.

Chapter 1 

"Shotgun-shattered backbone." The simple comment haunted Abby. She could still hear Tony saying the words, could still see him looking back at her casually, brow creased, then pointing a finger at the colorful duodenum on the other wall. "You need to get out more, Abby," he had added a moment later, half-grinning at her.

"Shotgun-shattered backbone." She said the words out loud, then crossed the room and hefted the framed image from its hook on the wall. She looked at it closely, tracing a finger over the undulating curve of the ruined spinal column, no longer seeing the beauty of the rich pinks, blues and oranges that formed the image of the smashed vertebra. She tucked the picture into a corner, face to the wall. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

----------------------

Kate walked quickly into the bull pen, and sat at her desk, covering her face with her hands. She held the pose for a moment, before pushing the hair out of her eyes and booting up the computer. She was disheveled, her clothing stained with spots of something dark that could have been dried blood. She gazed unseeingly across at the next desk, until a voice from elsewhere in the room penetrated her consciousness. "…news?"

"What was that, McGee?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I said, is there any news?"

Kate shook her head sadly. "He's still in surgery..." Her voice faltered, almost cracking. "Gibbs is there." She shrugged eloquently.

McGee, concern etched into his face, nodded, and turned back to his screen.

-----------------------

Leroy Jethro Gibbs wordlessly walked into the autopsy room and lay down on one of the tables, staring up at the ceiling.

"Jethro," Ducky acknowledged, still studying the x-ray he had wedged into the frame of the light box.

"Ducky," he replied automatically, tiredly rubbing his face.

"Is he going to be all right?" Ducky finally turned away from the x-ray and peered at Gibbs' prone form.

"All right," Gibbs said ironically. "Well, if all right means 'Is he alive? Is he gonna make it?' the answer is yes...maybe…I don't know…"

Ducky nodded his understanding.

"But if all right means 'Is he gonna walk again?'…" Gibbs' voice trailed off. "Kate's at the hospital. I needed to do some stuff," he added unnecessarily.

"Tony will understand." Ducky switched off the light box and walked across to Gibbs. He gave the agent a reassuring pat on the shoulder before quietly heading for the door of the lab, unable to think of anything further to say.

"Ducky," said Gibbs. "I messed up. I missed something."

"Jethro, go home. Work on your boat. Drink some coffee. Anthony…Anthony is young and resilient. He'll get through this." Ducky paused, as if waiting for Gibbs to make a move. "Go home. Let tomorrow take care of itself."

-----------------------

**Early Thursday morning**

Gibbs snored lightly as his head lolled back against the backrest of the chair, one foot lazily draped over the opposite knee. His clothes, although clean, were badly rumpled and his hair stuck up at an impossible angle where he'd run his hands through it multiple times during the last few hours. He and Kate had been keeping an alternating vigil for nearly two days.

DiNozzo, lying on his back for the time being, caught a peripheral glimpse of a shoe. "Boss? That you?"

Gibbs was immediately awake. "Yeah, DiNozzo, it's me."

"That's good. I was hoping it wasn't Kate wearing shoes that big."

Gibbs allowed himself a small smile. Tony lapsed back into silence and, considering the agent had barely opened his eyes to speak to him in the first place, Gibbs assumed he'd fallen back into unconsciousness, as he had several times in the last few hours – waking briefly only to lapse back.

"Boss…I think I screwed up again."

"No, Tony. I screwed up. I shoulda realized he had a partner. I…wasn't watching your six well enough."

'Sure, Gibbs." Tony fell into silence again, the quiet punctuated by the background of the bips and whirrs of various monitors. "What day is it?"

Gibbs squinted at the tiny script of the day/date on his watch. "Thursday." Gibbs could almost hear the cogs ticking over in Tony's brain as the younger man licked cracked lips with a dry tongue. Gibbs automatically stood and poured water from a jug on the nightstand, carefully bending over the straw and giving it to Tony to sip. He noted that the large scrape on Tony's cheek, sustained when his head hit the curb, looked less raw than previously.

"You got anyone you want me to notify?"

Tony released the straw then shook his head and closed his eyes again.

"Family? Parents?"

His eyes snapped open in alarm. "No!"

"Okay. No need to freak out on me," Gibbs said, amused at the reaction and to see that Tony's eyelids were already dropping shut again.

"Boss?" The single slurred word stopped Gibbs' progress as he turned to leave.

"Yeah?"

"Did you get him?"

-----------------------

_The single shot came out of nowhere and suddenly the scene was in slow motion – DiNozzo falling, hitting his head hard on the curb…Gibbs spinning on his heel, drawing his pistol as he turned…drawing a bead…firing…_

------------------------

"You betcha."

DiNozzo smiled, eyes still closed. "Thanks, boss."

-------------------------

Kate looked up from her desk as Gibbs strode through the bull pen, Starbucks coffee cup in one hand, jacket slung over the opposite shoulder, hanging from his fingers down his back. He barely acknowledged her with a nod, and glared at an oblivious McGee, seated at Tony's desk for now, but passed on to his own desk without comment. He placed the coffee none too gently on the desk, hung his jacket over the back of the chair and booted up the computer, by which time the phone was already ringing. "Gibbs…five minutes."

He stood and started walking in the direction of the stairs, sweeping past Kate, who had left her desk with a file and was coming towards him. "Hey, Gibbs, where are you…"

"Director's office."

"I need to talk to you about…"

"Later, Todd." He stepped past her brusquely, leaving her to shrug at McGee.

The director's secretary waved him through without speaking. NCIS Director Tom Morrow looked up from the papers he was reading long enough to wave Gibbs into a chair. He continued to finish the page, then looked up at Gibbs and smiled grimly. "I see you made no excuses."

"Weren't any. It was my fault."

"You're too hard on yourself."

Gibbs didn't respond, instead he concentrated on steepling his fingers, waiting for the director to get to the point. "We got our man in the end." Gibbs said with a grimace. _At a cost,_ he thought.

"DiNozzo. Who do you want to replace him?"

"Replace him? I don't want to replace him. I want him back on the job."

The director looked at Gibbs thoughtfully. "He's not gonna be any good to you in the field."

"I don't want him in the field. There's more to this job than functioning legs. He can still use a computer, interrogate a prisoner…think…"

"You'll need another field agent."

"I can put McGee in the field."

"He's green."

"He's keen and he'll learn. And if he doesn't, there's plenty of others champing at the bit."

"Okay. So how long we lookin' at?"

"Six-eight months, maybe a bit more." Gibbs fudged his response – he really had no idea but figured he'd err on the side of safety.

"You got it. You gonna tell DiNozzo he still has a job?"

Gibbs just smiled in reply.

----------------------

"McGee!" Gibbs called out the name as soon as he got back to his desk. "C'm here a minute."

McGee jumped, almost cowering. "Yes, sir…I mean, boss, I mean…"

Gibbs looked at him in frustration. "Just come here…please," he said more gently. _Really, McGee, you're the jumpiest agent I've ever met._ McGee came and stood in front of Gibbs' desk, wondering what he'd done wrong. "DiNozzo's gonna be out of action for quite some time. You interested in filling in for him?"

"No, I mean, yes…you're talking about higher duties, right?"

"Yes, McGee."

"Well…yes, I'm interested."

"Good, 'cause I already said you would." Gibbs turned away from the nervous young man, dismissing him with a curt wave. "Kate, you had something for me?"

Kate had followed the brief conference with interest. "Yes," she said, bringing over the file, then added _sotto voce_, "Is Tony gonna be back?"

Gibbs looked at her in surprise. "What makes you doubt it?"

"It's just…" She caught the steely glint in her boss's eye. "Never mind."

------------------------

Gibbs could hear the giggling from the room even prior to reaching halfway down the corridor. He rolled his eyes as a uniformed figure skittered out. "Hey, come back, we're not finished!"

"I'll lose my job," the nurse replied, smoothing down her uniform then fleeing down the corridor.

He knocked perfunctorily on the door before entering. "Brought your mail," he said.

"Hey, boss," said Tony, still smiling from whatever had preceded the pretty nurse's exit from his room. He was propped on his side and had, judging by the tray on the table, recently been eating dinner. Gibbs hadn't visited for a few days as he and Kate had been on an investigation out at sea. The senior agent was pleased at the change he saw. Tony was perceptibly more alert, and had obviously made use of the shaving gear Gibbs had brought on his previous visit.

"How's things?" Tony asked, flicking through the bundle of envelopes, mostly bills, from what he could see. He awkwardly tried to put them on the nightstand, wincing as he stretched. Most of the envelopes, imperfectly balanced on the small section of corner he'd been able to reach, promptly cascaded to the floor in a waterfall of white paper. "Bad move, DiNozzo," Tony said wryly, watching them tumble.

Gibbs bent down to retrieve the pile, dumping it where the one remaining envelope teetered on the brink. He shoved a large floral arrangement back out of the way to make more room on the surface, and noticed an unfamiliar signature on the card: "All the best, Anne Marie." "Now, you got everything you need? Anything I can get you?"

Tony shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed, having noticed Gibbs reading the card. "Boss?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you keep coming to see me? You feeling guilty over what happened? Because if that's why you're here – just don't. Okay? I don't need your pity."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the angry spark and wondered what had triggered it, why he seemed so upset that Gibbs had read the note attached to the flowers. He wasn't used to the normally good-natured, easy-going DiNozzo displaying any sign of temper. "DiNozzo, I'm here because I want to be. Because you're a valued member of my team. I'd do the same for any of the others."

"I am?"

"I am what?"

"A valued member of the team."

"Yes, Agent DiNozzo." Gibbs was slightly taken aback that DiNozzo needed the reassurance.

Tony was still unsure if he'd heard right. "I'm still a member of the team?"

"If you're asking me whether you'll have a job to come back to, the answer is yes. I've already spoken to the director about it." Gibbs blinked once. "There's still a job for you, no matter how long it takes. Besides, someone has to bring your mail. Wouldn't want the phone cut off while you're not there to use it," Gibbs grinned.

"Thanks, boss."

"Tony, don't sell yourself short. I don't work with fools."

Tony closed his eyes with a grimace, and took a sharp breath. "I know, boss." His brows knitted together, concentrating on some inner problem.

"Hey, DiNozzo, you okay?"

"Uh-uh. Being shot in the back is not exactly pain-free," he said, pulling a wry face.

"You want me to call a nurse."

"They'll be here with my meds soon enough," he said shortly. "Boss, think I wanna be alone for a while."

Gibbs looked at DiNozzo in concern. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Just got some thinking to do."

"Don't strain yourself."

-------------------------------

**A few days later**

"Good morning, Anthony."

"Morning, Ducky." Tony blushed violently at having the NCIS medical examiner walk into his room unannounced as he was being strapped into the restrictive TLSO vest in order to be allowed to sit upright. The ME had taken to dropping in from time to time, never coinciding with the visits made by Gibbs, which had prompted Tony to surmise that they had some sort of roster running. Tony stared straight ahead in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. Ducky was a medical practitioner, but he wasn't Tony's personal physician, and it was still humiliating to be caught like that, to be showing so much weakness.

"I'm sorry, Tony. I can see you're busy. I'll come back in a few minutes." The ME's tone was gentle, understanding.

"It's okay, Ducky," Tony sighed, casting him a sidelong glance. "Sit down."

Ducky waited quietly until Tony was ready. He was sitting more upright in the bed than Ducky had yet seen him, the vest securely fastened over a plain white t-shirt. He gave Tony a moment to gather himself before speaking. "Have you thought about what we discussed the last time I was here, Anthony?"

"I don't want to talk to them," Tony said stubbornly.

"They'll have to know sooner or later."

"Look, my father cut me off years ago. He's always been convinced that I was worthless, that I would end up in the gutter – the gutter starting with Phys Ed at Ohio State and going downhill from there straight to the sewers." He reached for the trapeze above his head and pulled himself infinitesimally straighter. He felt oddly disembodied when sitting, and had found that he slipped down the bed quite quickly. "In their eyes, I'm a failure, and this…" he gestured at his motionless legs, "would just be the coffin nails, as far as it goes."

"Anthony, your mother has a right to know. You're her only child."

"My mother doesn't care for anything except bridge and her 'charitable works.' I'm not the son they wanted…would have had, Ducky, not for either of them."

"Oh, come on, Anthony. It can't be that bad."

"This just makes it worse."

Ducky looked into Tony's eyes, concern written all over his face. This was more than the Special Agent had said about his family than in the whole time he'd been employed at NCIS, and he wasn't used to seeing the normally effervescent DiNozzo so low.

"The thing is, I think it would be much better to tell your mother yourself than to have her find out by accident. I'm sure you can see that no matter how they feel about you, your parents have a right to know, and they may even surprise you."

Ducky was amazed at the pain that flickered across the younger man's face at the mention of his family. It explained a lot about his relationship with his superior in the NCIS, the continual seeking of approval, as if Jethro Gibbs were a substitute for his father. Tony, for all the wealth in his background, seemed to have missed out on the richest part of most peoples' lives – the unconditional love of his parents.

Tony clamped his eyes shut and bowed his head, a crumpled bundle of bedsheets screwed up in his hand.

"Tony," Ducky said gently, dropping back to the shorter version of his name in a moment of unaccustomed casualness, "We've managed to keep this out of the press so far, but you never know when a leak can happen. You wouldn't want them to…"

"Find out that way?" Tony finished for him quietly. "No, you're right. I've just been putting off the inevitable."

Tony took a couple of ragged breaths and gave Ducky a watery smile. "No time like the present," he said resolutely, suddenly sounding very young indeed. Ducky stood and handed him the phone that had gradually been moving to the back of the nightstand as time passed. He was amused to see Tony select the button for an outside line and key in his parents' number by rote. For someone who considered himself such a disappointment to his parents, he was able to key in the digits without hesitation, almost like he practiced calling them for just such an occasion. Ducky quietly withdrew. He shut the door behind him, hearing Tony's pleasant tenor voice say, "Hello, Amelia. Can I talk to my mother, please?"

------------------------

"Nice flowers," Gibbs said walking into the room later that day. A huge arrangement of spring flowers had taken the place of the one from "Anne-Marie". "Hey, Gibbs." Tony, who had been deeply contemplating a spot on the wall, somewhere about the midpoint, turned his attention to his boss.

"Love from Mom." Gibbs couldn't help smiling, especially when he received a shrug in response. "You called your mom finally?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"She sent me flowers." Tony shrugged again, non-committally.

"Who's Anne-Marie?"

"Dunno. Someone down the hall had a flower shop in their room. I ended up with some of the overflow." He reached for the trapeze and pulled himself straight.

Gibbs shrugged a response, realizing that the real reason for Tony's display of temper the previous day was that he didn't want Gibbs to know that no one had bothered to send him flowers, that despite all his flirtations and dalliances, no one really cared – there was no one close enough to him to bother sending flowers. Tony, above all else, was lonely and alone. Gibbs fished in the outside pocket of his jacket. "Here's your mail. Anything else I can do for you? Anything you need?"

"I'm touched, boss," Tony said with a grin. "You really do care."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Tony."

"I know, boss." He scratched at his chest, inserting a finger under the edge of vest where it itched. "Gees, I hate this thing. Feel like I'm in a straight jacket."

-----------------------

Tony pressed the call-button. He was bored and felt like having some female company, and he wouldn't be lying if he said his magazine had fallen on the floor – because it had. He had taken to calling the nurses for the slightest excuse, drawing them around like bees to an over-pollinated flower. Tony didn't look towards the door when he heard the tread of soft-soled shoes.

"Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Can you pick up my magazine? I've…dropped it…" He looked up and took in the appearance of the person who had entered the room. She was large – nearly six feet tall and almost as wide – and his expression immediately altered to one of dismay. "...on the floor." _Oh, God, Nurse Battle-ax._

"And the time before that it was a drink of water, and the time before that…" the woman turned to him. "We're not here to be your personal slaves, nor are we here to keep you entertained, Mr. DiNozzo. Do what all the others do – get yourself addicted to some harmless soap and leave the nursing staff to look after people who really need it." Tony looked at her sourly. "Or would you rather I sent up someone from occupational therapy to teach you basket-weaving?"

"No, ma'am."

"I thought you'd see it that way," she said.

Tony looked crestfallen. "But I'm bored," he sighed.

The nurse smiled at him kindly and patted his hand. "You're just going to have to get used to that. We're gonna have the pleasure of your company for quite a while. And flirting with the staff is not on the agenda, capisce?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, here's your magazine. If you drop it again today, I'm not gonna pick it up for you."

"Thank you," he said soberly, but then spoiled the effect with a boyish smile, a dimple puckering his cheek.

**Author now ducks flying fruit**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Nothing's changed since then.

**A/N:** Many thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed or read and reviewed. To put it mildly Alaidh and I have been totally overwhelmed by the response to our baby – the hit rate has been phenomenal (thank you FFN enhanced stats, lol) – over 500 during the first week of posting of Chapter 1. Once again, a thousand thankyous to Alaidh, my friend, beta and co-conspirator on this story. Without her, this story just wouldn't have happened.

**Chapter 2**

"Morning, Mr. D."

"Hi." Tony looked at the new arrival in some confusion.

"I'm Anne McCallister, your physio…PT. Gees, I'll never get used to saying that."

"Hey, you're an Aussie!"

"That would be Aussie with a zed – zee for you," she said, correcting his pronunciation.

"I love Aussies," he said, getting it right.

She was young and undeniably attractive, with short, dark hair and a light scattering of freckles across her face. She was also undeniably physically strong, and exuded such an air of competence that even Tony thought twice about flirting with her. "You'll be starting rehab soon," she said, pulling back the bedclothes and taking hold of one of his feet. Tony had a mini-bet with himself that her hands would be cold if he could feel them. He watched with detachment as she started to stretch the muscles and tendons and manipulate the joints, starting with his feet. "Why do you do that?" he asked suddenly.

"No one explained the ROMs to you?" she asked in response.

He shook his head in reply. "No, and I didn't ask."

"Hmm, aren't you an investigator?" When he didn't reply she continued with the explanation. "There's several reasons," she said, gently putting his leg down. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him, turned slightly sideways, swinging her foot. "Firstly, to keep the joints moving. You know how if you, I don't know, sit too long in one position then try to move everything just seizes up and it really hurts?"

"Yeah. I've done that."

"Haven't we all," she grinned. "You wanna chase Barbie dolls, not become one, right?"

Tony grinned.

"Secondly, to prevent contracture."

"Gotcha."

"Thirdly, to help prevent spasms."

"Okay."

"Basically, the stretches will help you reach and maintain optimum independence. Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"Now, you ready to get out of that bed?" she asked. "Your surgeon said it would be okay to give you fifteen minutes in the chair today."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be back in a minute," she said.

Anne was back a few minutes later with a wheelchair and a long piece of wood. She parked the chair and locked the brakes, then lowered the level of the bed to make the transfer easier. "Okay, let's get you upright." She offered her hands to pull him upright and then swung his legs around off the side of the bed.

"Whoah."

"You okay there?" Anne asked when she had him sitting on the side of the bed, propped on his arms.

"Not really, no," he said.

"It'll feel a little strange now, but you'll get used to it. Just let me know if you get dizzy." She pulled off the armrest of the chair and picked up the piece of wood. "This is a transfer or slide board. You probably won't always need it, but it's a useful tool for now." She looked at him critically as he sat propped on the edge of the bed dressed in a pair of boxer shorts, t-shirt covered by the TLSO vest with a short robe over the top then grinned. "Elegant outfit. You might want to get someone to bring you some drawers."

"Drawers?"

"Pants, silly."

"Okay, duly noted. Drawers, prawns…" he said, mimicking her Australian accent.

She grinned at him. "You wanna try this yourself with the slide board, or will I grab a couple of strong blokes to lift you?"

"I'll try,' said Tony, quietly, his tone serious. "I've got two shredded vertebrae and a severed spinal cord, so this is gonna be for the rest of my life. Might as well start the learning curve now as later."

Anne nodded as if to say "good boy". "Let's get you set up, then."

--------------------

Tony sat quietly by the window of his room, staring out at the view. He'd accomplished the transfer himself, and Anne had then left him for a few minutes to savor the feeling of success. It was an oddly terrifying feeling to be sitting in a chair. He had no feeling in his body from the hip area down, and he felt completely off balance. He was thankful that the clunky hospital wheelchair had armrests, and clutched them for the illusion of stability. Still, in another way, it also felt really good to be out of bed.

"Hey, Tony," a female voice said, entering his room, a voice he hadn't heard in quite a while.

"Kate!" Tony turned his head to look, an expression of pleasure on his face.

"Gibbs asked me to drop off your mail," she said, dropping said mail on the table before walking over to the window. "How you doin'? You look a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Well, since I don't remember seeing you since I was shot…"

"Gibbs's been like a bear with a sore head," she said, promptly changing the subject. Tony intuitively sensed that Kate was feeling a certain amount of discomfort.

"He gets like that when he's hurting, Kate, you know that," Tony said. "He feels responsible for what happened to me. He'd be the same if it were you or McGee or any one else."

"Yeah, I know." She turned her head, hearing Anne enter the room.

"Time's up, bozo," the PT said.

Tony held up his hand in a "one moment" gesture, releasing his death grip on the arm of the chair. "Thanks for coming, Kate."

"You're welcome, Tony."

Tony visibly sagged, obviously flagging, as soon as Kate was out the door. "You gonna be able to manage the transfer?"

"Sure," he said, his smile overly bright.

She lined him up with the bed and helped situate the slide board, checking carefully that it was properly under his body. "Okay, go," she said.

Tony started moving slowly across, laboriously shifting his weight onto the board under the close scrutiny of the therapist. "Ah, damn!" the exclamation came as Tony found himself stuck and then falling forward, unable to resist the force of gravity. Anne caught him by the shoulders with quick hands, rebalancing his weight on the board.

"Hey, take it easy. You want a hand?" He looked up at her feeling a little foolish. "Let me take the weight of your legs. That'll make things easier."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure."

"Tony," she said with a smile. "Baby steps, okay?" She picked up his legs in a sure grip around the ankles. "Hey, legs like these, you must have been a runner," she quipped, balancing the weight. "Now try it."

He gave her a hesitant smile that quickly turned into a wider grin as he found himself able to move. He waited until he was properly settled in the bed before speaking again. "Thanks, Anne."

"You're welcome, Tone. Take it easy, 'kay? Things'll seem hard right now, but it will get better, I promise."

"It's not like I have a choice, right?"

"Nope, no choices." She looked at her watch. "Okay, got another patient to see. Enjoy the rest of your day."

----------------------------

Gibbs was in early the following morning with a large plastic bag in one hand and a potted plant in the other. "What've you got there, boss?" Tony asked.

He dropped the bag on the edge of the bed, catching it quickly when it started to tilt and leaning it back against Tony's legs. "Brought you some clothes – sweatpants and things."

Tony looked both surprised and thankful. "Thanks, boss."

Gibbs, for once, looked a little uncertain. "Kate said you could use them."

Tony nodded in the affirmative. "I can. And what's that?" he asked, looking at the curious little plant that Gibbs set down on the rolling table.

"From Abby. She thought you could do with some…passion in your life – whatever that means."

Tony gestured for Gibbs to move the out-of-reach tray-table forward. He examined the handwritten plastic tab stuck into the potting mix in which an odd little plant with purple leaves grew. "Purple passion vine" he said out loud. "Interesting. Must be a goth thing."

"Yeah, I guess."

Gibbs had been as confused as Tony when Abby had handed him the strange plant, with its dark greenish purple leaves. They were slightly hairy and almost looked like bats. Gibbs also noted that Tony's mother had sent him yet another floral arrangement – the third in as many weeks. This one consisted of a complex arrangement of dark yellow late spring exotics.

Ducky had filled Gibbs in on what Tony had told him about his family. They both had a hard time understanding the attitude of Tony's parents to their only child. While Gibbs found Tony's impetuosity and general lack of seriousness to be a trial from time to time, DiNozzo also had a disarming charm, and brought to the job so much enthusiasm and enjoyment that Gibbs found it hard to give him more than the odd reprimand. He found it incredible that Tony's family could disown him, as they obviously had. Under Gibbs' not so patient guiding hand he was shaping into a capable agent, with occasional brilliant leaps of intuition, the ability to charm witnesses into revealing their secrets, and the kind of reckless courage he'd seen from himself. And he had nothing but respect for the way DiNozzo was facing up to his current difficulties. Other than one angry outburst brought on by insecurity, Tony had pretty much just been his usual self.

Tony noted where Gibbs' eyes had gone and gave a wry smile. "She keeps threatening to visit," he said. "I told her not to bother." A momentary expression of pain crossed his face, but was quickly replaced by the normal Tony smile. "So, what's goin' down in the outside world, boss?"

-----------------------------

Anne saw the slim, angular, gray-haired man leaving Tony's room as she was getting ready for Tony's next session. Anne entered the room with a cheerful, "G'day."

"G'day yourself," Tony responded, pulling out a pair of navy blue sweat pants from the bag Gibbs had left.

"Cool. I see your dad brought you some clothes."

"Who, Gibbs?"

"The skinny gray-haired guy with the bad haircut."

"No, no, no, no," Tony laughed. "He's…not my dad. He's my boss."

Anne blushed bright red. "I'm so sorry…I thought…never mind."

Tony adopted a more serious expression. "Gibbs is better than my dad. He's here and he actually cares."

Anne picked up the pants, taking them from Tony's hands. "These look pretty good. Guess we're in business," she smiled. "Want me to put the rest of this stuff away for you?"

"Please."

----------------------------

Tony was startled out of a doze by the clicking of heels on the floor of his room. "Anthony? My poor darling boy," a soft voice said.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Tony shook his head to clear some of the fuzziness induced by a daytime nap.

"I've come to look after you, sweetheart."

He looked at his mother blankly, taking in her perfectly coiffed light brown hair, understated makeup and tailored suit, and was instantly suspicious. "Mom, I don't need to be looked after."

"But sweetheart, it's so long since we saw you. I want you to come home and live with us."

"No, Mom. I have a home and a job here." Tony's jaw started to develop a dangerously stubborn set. He could see where this was heading and he didn't like it one bit.

"But surely you're gonna quit your job now. It's so dangerous…and…look what happened. I never wanted you to be a policeman or whatever the hell you call it."

"No, Mom."

Gibbs, standing outside the room, held a finger to his lips when he saw the PT coming toward him. He was grinning broadly at the exchange, the two voices carrying out into the corridor. Tony's mother's voice was developing a slightly hysterical edge to it, while Tony himself had a kind of controlled tightness to his as he said for the fourth time that he was not going to leave his job, and his home.

"But Anthony, I want to look after you now that you're an invalid."

"No, Mom. I will not be paraded before your friends like some kind of prize, 'Oh, and this is my son Anthony who was shot in the back. He was a Law Enforcement Officer, you know.'" Tony's voice was a perfect mimic of his mother's. "All you want is to show your snooty, in-bred friends what a martyr you are!" The fury was now becoming more apparent in his voice. "I won't be a party to that…ever! I can look after myself, Mother. I don't need your care or your pity!"

"But…sweetheart…can't we talk this over?"

Gibbs and Anne heard a loud thud, together with some dripping noises.

"Well, I've never…"

"Mom…just go…please," he said more gently than he really felt. "I just don't need this right now."

Tony's mother strode out of the room without another word, silently stalking past Gibbs and Anne, her face white, obviously very upset. She felt around in her handbag and came up with a tissue before scurrying along the corridor in the direction of the exit. Anne and Gibbs exchanged looks as the woman disappeared from sight, trying very hard not to laugh. Gibbs made a gesture indicating he was going after mom and that Anne should deal with Tony. "Sure," she said.

Anne stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and surveyed the scene. Tony had his hands over his face, shoulders shaking with something, but whether it was rage, laughter or tears, she couldn't tell. The large floral arrangement which had previously been on the nightstand had been flung across the room with great violence, shedding blooms, greenery and drops of water as it went, and apparently, judging by the black skid-mark, impacting on the wall to finally come to rest about four feet from the door. Water had flowed from the shattered plastic base and collected in a pool. The PT waited, trying to contain her laughter. Eventually, Tony opened two fingers to see her standing by the door, grinning at him. "Is she gone?" he asked.

"She is."

Tony dropped his hands. His face was ashen, but he started to laugh.

"That…was really mean," she finally said.

"She deserved it."

Anne looked at him and sighed.

"You gonna clean up the mess, or to I have to get Nurse Battle-ax to beat on you?" she asked.

Tony gave her a "who, me?" look.

"Well, you told your mum you can take care of yourself. Let's begin by cleaning up this mess."

"How do I do that?" he asked doubtfully, looking over the edge of the bed at the floor.

Anne pushed the wheelchair into position beside the bed, footrests flipped up, and patted the seat with her hand, grinning at him wickedly. Tony sighed and pushed up into a sitting position on the side of the bed. After she removed the arm, he positioned the slide board and transferred across, grumbling the whole time.

"You're gettin' too good at this. I think it's time we moved you down to rehab," Anne commented. "Now, you need to lower yourself to the floor. Scoot forward on the seat a bit…that's good…find a grip on the frame and lower yourself down…that's the way." Anne gave him a smile and patted his head as she passed by to go into the bathroom for a towel. "There you go, sport, have at it."

"You are going to help, aren't you?" he asked reproachfully.

"I didn't throw the flowers," she pointed out.

"Please?" he looked up at her with pleading eyes.

"Oh, all right." Anne bent down and started gathering the scattered blooms, throwing them in the trash when she was done, trying not to laugh at Tony as he muttered to himself about "doing the damn housework."

"Mopping the floor, DiNozzo?" Tony looked up at the sound of his boss's voice. "When did you join the cleaning staff?"

"Awww, boss, did you have to show up now?" Tony scooted backwards across the floor a bit further, dragging the towel through a stream of water.

"That was quite an impressive display you put on for your mother."

Tony gave him an annoyed look. "Not you too, Gibbs."

"She left, by the way. Muttered something about how she wasn't appreciated by her ungrateful son and that she should just go home."

Tony cast his eyes upwards. "There is a merciful God," he said, leaning back on his hands. "I'm done here, Mom," he said to Anne, who was sitting in the wheelchair watching the by-play between Tony and Gibbs.

"Now for the hard part."

"Knew there was a catch to this," Tony moaned. "Up gotta be harder than down."

"Move out from the wall so there's room to move," the PT said. She flipped up the footrests again to get them out of the way and locked the brakes, parking the chair as close as she could while Gibbs watched curiously. "Now, grab the frame as high as you can and try to lift yourself."

Tony took a couple of breaths and attempted to lift his own bodyweight up onto the seat, a vein popping out on his forehead as he strained. He grunted with the effort. Anne reached a hand around his waist to help him up the last few inches, but was intercepted by Gibbs's hand on the other side, who was doing the same thing. "Hey, nice try, DiNozzo," she said. "You nearly nailed that."

Tony took a couple of deep breaths. "Thanks." He coughed and rubbed his ribs, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Man, you got bony hands, boss."

-----------------------------------

The move to the rehab section was remarkably painless. Tony soon settled into the new regime, and not being one for continual dull routine, the change seemed to suit him. He threw himself into the task of weight training and learning how to cope with gusto. Anne, who had qualifications in both physical and occupational therapy, had been assigned Tony as a "special" via Gibbs' nefarious means when the NCIS agent had discovered that, despite her obvious good looks, she wasn't going to be an easy nut for the gutter-minded junior agent to crack.

Tony had warmed to the Australian girl's relaxed attitude – or seemingly relaxed attitude. He soon realized that she managed to get him to work very hard indeed without seeming to force the issue, and she managed to keep the tasks varied while still aiming toward the same goals.

The set up in rehab was somewhat different, with most patients making use of a shared dining and recreation room with widescreen TV, video and DVD, as well as the gym, and other exercise and hydrotherapy facilities.

Ducky was still dropping in from time to time. He had dropped the bombshell earlier in the day that Tony's mother was still in town and that there was some possibility that she would be calling again. Ducky had found Tony taking a break, staring out the window of the recreation room at a heavy rainstorm.

"I wish she'd go back home," was all he could think to say.

"Anthony, despite what you seem to think, your mother does care what happens to you. She's been calling Gibbs for daily updates."

Tony just shook his head. "How come he hasn't told me this?" Tony asked, then reconsidered. "No, this is Gibbs we're talking about." The Medical Examiner was quiet for once as Tony mulled things over. "Ducky, tell Gibbs to let her know it's okay to visit."

"Ah, good," the older man said. "I knew you'd see reason sooner or later."

-----------------------------------

_"There's one thing you can do for me." Tony looked at his boss, seeming to come to a difficult decision. Three days into full-on rehab and he was already starting to work out some home truths about what his future life would probably be like, and driving a car with a manual transmission was one he'd made a decision on._

_"What's that?"_

_"Sell my car."_

_Gibbs had been silent for a moment. "You sure?"_

_"The papers are in the top drawer of the desk in my apartment," Tony had continued, ignoring the question. "These the keys?" Gibbs held up the car keys that were on the ring of keys he was using to access Tony's apartment in order to collect his mail and to bring him various things. "Yup. Parking space 75."_

_"You sure you wanna do this?" Gibbs asked._

_"Yeah," was the firm reply. "It's no good to me any more. And I can always buy another car, one that I **can **drive now," he said with a wry grin._

Gibbs strolled around the parking lot looking for the number painted on Tony's allotted car space in the apartment block. He walked past the old dark blue sports car three times before realizing that this was what he had been looking for. For work purposes, Tony usually drove one of the cars from the motor pool, and as a result, Gibbs had no idea that the lovingly restored dark blue Shelby Cobra he sometimes saw at NCIS headquarters belonged to the junior agent.

Gibbs whistled between his teeth and placed a work-worn hand on the smooth paintwork, where one of two wide white stripes met the point of the hood. Grinning, he got in the car and started the engine, pleased at the way it responded immediately. "How can such a unclassy guy…" Gibbs wondered, as he pulled out onto the street, "...own such a classy car. Can only be one reason for it." Gibbs was still pondering this conundrum as he nosed out onto the freeway, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair from the open-topped vehicle.

------------------------------

"What's this, boss?" Gibbs had handed Tony a check.

"What I got for the car."

Tony looked at the digits curiously, disregarding the signature. "Can you deposit it in my account for me?"

Gibbs gave a small laugh, "Sure."

-------------------------------

Gibbs drove the blue sports car into the NCIS parking lot and, juggling coat and coffee, made for the elevator. Immediately on arrival at his desk, he was on the phone to the director, making an appointment.

"He needs a car. I thought maybe we could fix one up for him temporarily."

"Is that wise?" asked the director. "It might be setting a bad precedent."

"Could be a bad precedent if we don't, sir." Gibbs was happy to milk the system for whatever he could get. "Don't want the ADA coming down on us for not doing everything we can."

"All right, just temporarily. I'll get my secretary to sort something out with the motor pool."

"Thank you, sir."

-------------------------------

Gibbs wandered into the gym of the rehab section late in the morning on his way to interview a suspect in a murder enquiry. There were several groups in the room engaged in various activities. He caught Anne's eye where she was working with Tony, who was lying on the floor mat working on the ins and outs of rolling over. They'd already done an upper body workout and his dark colored t-shirt clung to his body wetly. They were gradually moving onto the skills he would need to have for his future life, and the ability to move his body efficiently was one of those important skills. Anne gave Tony a pat on the shoulder as she stood to go and talk to Gibbs, "Keep going. Be right back."

Tony looked back at where she'd gone and thought, seeing Gibbs, _Ah, crap. It had to be him._ His boss was an expert at catching him in embarrassing situations, and flopping around on the floor like a beached whale was just one more to add to the list. Anne, keeping a watchful eye on her patient, just waved for him to continue. Tony eyed the private conversation suspiciously.

"What was that all about?" he asked as the therapist came back to him. "Nothing. He was just checking on your progress."

Tony looked at her slightly pissily. "Fine, don't tell me." He pushed up into a sitting position and dragged himself backwards to the edge of the mat, intending to get back into the wheelchair if his wretched body would let him.

"What's up with you?" Anne asked, amazed that her normally equable patient was upset.

"I'm just sick of people doing things for my own good behind my back."

"Tony?"

"He can check my progress by asking me, you know." He pulled the wheelchair into position and locked the brakes with an angry snap.

"Tony, calm down." She sat down beside him on the floor, legs tucked up, arms wrapped around them. "What's the matter? Really?"

"I-I'm not sure I can do this."

"Remember what I said when we first started?"

"Baby steps?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "No, after that."

"That things would seem hard now, but that'd improve?"

"Yes, but that's not the one I was thinking of either."

"That I'd work the hardest I ever had in my life."

"That's the one. Well, Gibbs is just trying to make that life a little easier for you," she said, somewhat enigmatically. "Come on, why don't we grab some lunch and go out in the garden for a while. Some sunshine'll do us both some good."

**A/N**: Just wanted to point out that, firstly, I'm not a medical specialist, so if I've gotten any of that stuff wrong, don't sue me. Secondly, the best is yet to come. This chapter has been more serious…trust me, Alaidh won't let it remain serious for long. Just bear with me.

A photo of the purple passion vine can be seen here:  www. darkangelkasman. com/ gynura.JPG (remove extra spaces)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Nothing's changed. They're still not mine.

**A/N**: Many thanks to Alaidh for her hard work very late at night/early in the morning on this, my longest chapter ever. What started as a one chapter work, then became three, now looks like panning out at five chapters.

Many thanks for the all reading and reviewing that is happening. At last count, the hits were over 1,400 and about 34 reviews. So thanks everyone.

**Chapter 3**

"Anthony?" the word was softly spoken from the doorway.

Tony was drowsily watching TV in bed, trying very hard to stay awake just that little bit longer, as he had when he was a child. He was lying on his side, his legs pulled up together, an arm draped over the top, his head and upper body propped against the pillows. He looked back at her from his recumbent position. "Hi, Mom. Come on in," he said, pushing himself up and onto his back, his legs following the movement of his body. "I thought you'd be here sooner than this." He pulled off the headset, and clicked off the TV.

"Anthony, sweetheart…" she said. "I couldn't, I had to take a trip back home…" Tony offered his arms in the universal gesture that signaled he wanted to be hugged.

"Oh, Anthony, I'm afraid I'll hurt you! I don't want you any more broken than you already are."

Tony sighed, "Come here, Mom," and pulled her into a strong hug. "I'm not made of glass."

Irene DiNozzo hesitated, then returned his strong grip. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

------------------------------------

"Your mother's not what I expected," Gibbs said, preparing to leave.

"What did you expect? A two-headed fire-breathing monster?"

"No, someone a bit more…"

"My dad's Italian. My mom's family is Irish and Scandinavian."

"Ahh," Gibbs said, and nodded his understanding. "You sort things out with her?"

"Going home for Christmas," DiNozzo replied, placing his foot back on the footplate of the wheelchair, shoelaces neatly tied.

"Christmas? That's months away."

Tony shrugged. "Gives her time to fix the house up a bit for me. Told her I'm not an invalid and I won't be treated as one." He wheeled his way around the bed, ready for the gym.

"How'd she take that?" Gibbs asked, wearing a lop-sided smile.

"'Bout as well as can be expected," he grinned.

"Hope you weren't too hard on her."

"Me?" Tony's green eyes were startlingly innocent. "Never."

"Never? What about the other day?"

"Momentary aberration," he said, looking back over his shoulder at Gibbs, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know me, boss."

"Yeah, I do, DiNozzo."

-------------------------------------

"Go get changed into something you can wear out on the streets. We're doing something different today." Anne breezed into Tony's room in the rehab section late in the morning, bubbling with life. "You have got something other than sweats?"

"Um, yeah. What're we doing?"

"Life skills class at the mall."

"Okayyyy."

"Come on, chop chop." She clapped her hands, chivvying him into movement. "I'll go and bring my car around to the door," she said. Fifteen minutes later, a long whistle greeted Tony as he rolled out the front door of the rehab section and onto the concourse. "Hey, hotshot! Lookin' good."

Tony was wearing a pair of tan cargo pants with a navy t-shirt and white running shoes. A pair of sunglasses was looped over the neckband of the shirt. He was clean-shaven and recently showered – his hair still sticking up in damp clumps where he'd combed it and then changed. He had been diligently working with the weights, and developed a good amount of muscle tone, which showed in the way he filled out the t-shirt and in the easy way he moved. One of the pockets of the pants bulged where he'd shoved his wallet into it, but other than that, he was clean and neat as he confidently pushed down the ramp to the car.

"Now then, is there anything in particular you'd like to do," Anne asked once he was settled in the passenger seat of her Toyota Camry.

"Get a decent cup of coffee. The stuff they serve in this place…well, it shouldn't be allowed."

"I know what you mean." She stashed the wheelchair in the back seat. The chair was hospital issue, but a far cry from the clunker he'd had at first. The wheelchair he was currently using was a fairly good standard chair with anti-tippers. He had already been measured up and they had placed an order for what would be his take-home chair, but for the moment, he had something that would do. Anne put the car in gear and headed out of the parking lot into the mid-morning traffic as Tony donned the sunglasses and wound down the window to catch the breeze in his face. "This is the first time you've been out since the shooting, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he replied scratching the back of his neck. "Never thought I'd escape the joint."

"You'll be out soon enough, bozo. Won't be long until you're taking _me_ for drives."

Tony grinned, holding the good thought.

Anne paused for a moment before changing the track of the conversation. "That boss of yours – he has this way of getting things done, doesn't he."

"Yeah. He's not much of one for sticking to the rules if they get in the way."

"He'd fit right in where I come from." Tony wondered why she'd said that, then forgot all about it a moment later as she pulled the car into the entrance of a covered parking lot. "Speaking of rules…there's a swing-tag in the glove compartment."

"Got it."

A few minutes later, Tony was studying the curb cut to get into the building. The concrete had buckled slightly with age, creating a slight step – not enough of a step to be a problem, but just high enough to be annoying. _Come on, mate, you've been practicing this._ He heard Anne's voice in his head saying the words The little hop he gave to kick the casters up over the step was anti-climactic in the event. "Piece o' cake." He looked up at the PT, a small grin of triumph on his face. "What now?"

"What about some shopping therapy?"

"Yeah, I need some toothpaste and shaving cream," he responded, tongue-in-cheek.

"Whatever," she shrugged, "but I was actually thinking of a different sort of shopping."

-------------------------------

Gibbs marched into NCIS headquarters with a box of evidence held loosely in his hands and headed straight down to Forensics.

"Morning, Gibbs, whatcha got for me?" she asked over the blare of the ever-present heavy metal music.

"Evidence from that shooting down at Norfolk."

"Cool," she said, taking a long suck on the straw of the large cup of Caffe Pow on her desk.

"You been to see Tony yet?"

"No, Gibbs. I know I should but...hospitals kind of freak me out."

"He'd love to see you, Abbs, and technically he's no longer in the hospital but in rehab." Gibbs dumped the box on Abby's counter, next to the reconstruction of Gallipoli she had there. He used the movement as a distraction from the pain he still felt at what had happened. No matter what anyone said, he still felt responsible that one of his agents had been seriously injured on a job, that it was his fault.

"Well in that case, maybe I will," she replied with a huge grin, signing the chit to show the chain of evidence.

"See ya later, Abbs."

"Sure, Gibbs."

-----------------------------------

Tony handed the pretty clerk a bundle of clothing. Once upon a time, he would have leaned down on the counter on his hands, but now, it came to up around his armpits. He crossed his arms on the counter, leaning his chin on them, looking up at her with huge puppy dog eyes. "You're new here, aren't you…Tina," he said, reading the name off her tag.

The girl just smiled and nodded. Anne, standing back a bit to allow the DiNozzo charm free reign, saw the girl blush under Tony's candid gaze, and couldn't help smiling to herself. _Hey, never been to this mall before,_ he'd said as they drove in. He'd had the girl pegged as a newbie as soon as they wandered into the shop.

"What happened to…oh, what was her name?"

"M-M-Margaret?" the girl asked. "Not here any more." She tried to avoid Tony's gaze while she rang up the total. His candid look, undressing her with his eyes, was making her nervous.

Tony smiled, the dimple flashing briefly in his cheek. "And how will you be paying, sir?" the girl asked, staring down at the pile she was folding to pack in a shopping bag.

"Visa." He smiled sweetly and blinked.

Anne was having a hard time containing her laughter at what he was doing, even if it was unconscious.

Tina swiped his card in the machine then gave him the slip to sign.

"Thank you, Tina," he said, scrawling his signature.

She handed him the card and the plastic shopping bag, the receipt tucked safely inside. By then, she was in such a state that she almost dropped them and had to apologize quickly. "Have a nice day."

"Oh, I fully intend to," Tony replied. He tried to balance the bag on his knees and then realized it wouldn't stay, and eventually hung it from the back of the chair.

Outside the store, Anne turned to Tony and said, "You know, you need a license for that smile."

"What?!" he looked at her in confusion.

"Well, poor girl. You used it on her like a lethal weapon."

Tony grinned at her. "How come you're so impervious?"

"Three brothers and a large dose of Aussie skepticism."

"Guess that makes you a challenge." He grinned even wider.

"Keep trying, Prince Charming. Come on, I could do with a caffeine fix right about now."

"Coffee shop's upstairs." Tony could see the sign on the upper level from his position below.

"The elevator's down this way," she said, setting off down the left-hand side of the mall.

"Hey, slow down!" Tony's attempt to follow at speed had resulted in a near-collision with a discount rack of clothes standing out in the main passageway. Catching up to the PT, he couldn't help saying, "Ya know, I never realized before what a nuisance those damn racks can be."

"Welcome to the world of the disabled, Tony," she said quietly, so that only he could hear her.

He looked at her a moment, his expression troubled, but then seemed to shrug it off. "Life isn't all smooth floors and straight passages. Come on, find me a machine so I can score some cash and I'll buy you a coffee." He pushed off, taking the lead this time, but then stopped with an exclamation. "Ack!" he said, lifting his right hand well away from the wheel.

"What's up?"

" Gum." There was a comical look of distaste on his face as he showed her the string of gum running from his hand to the tire of the wheelchair where he'd use a double grip to get his momentum going. "Ugh. And it's fresh." He wore an expression of absolute horror.

Anne looked through her bag and quickly saw she didn't have anything to clean it up. Looking around, she spied an ice cream stand and walked over to take one of the paper napkins from the top of the counter. "Hey, customers only!" said the disgruntled person behind the counter.

"Sorry, my friend has a slight problem," she said, pointing at Tony who was sitting with his chin in his left hand, his right hand held up with the gum on it.

"Oh, in that case…"

Anne crouched down and cleaned up the mess as best she could, scraping the tire with the napkin, then dumping the wadded paper in the nearest trash can. "Well, wouldn't that make you bawl," Tony finally said, adopting a really bad Charles Bronson voice, starting to see the funny part of the situation. "Could've been worse…"

"Yep, could have been…don't think we'll go there. You wanna go wash your hands?"

"Yeah, might be a plan." Tony looked around and saw a sign with the three international symbols for man, woman and wheelchair and a directional arrow. A few minutes later, he emerged smiling. "That's an experience I don't want to repeat in a hurry. Gum. Ugh," he said. "Now, cash and coffee."

"Cash I got covered – look over there."

He looked over at the ATM. "Ah, great, and just a nice height, too."

"They're like that deliberately, Tony."

"I know," he responded mildly, going over to join the line of people making withdrawals.

------------------------

"Make a hole, people! Comin' through!" The elevator doors had opened on a larger group than had boarded at the lower level – apparently headed for the offices upstairs, and they had instantly pressed forward, not giving anyone a chance to get out. Tony, while unwilling to use the wheelchair as an actual battering ram, had no hesitation in forcing a path through by other means. He bumped over the entrance to the car, almost taking out the toes of the nearest person to the door, blissfully oblivious to the glare she gave him. Once they were clear, he stopped for a moment with the observation, "Man, some people have no manners."

"You are so right," a man beside him agreed.

Tony gave the fellow an ironic nod of acknowledgment, then orienting himself, he pushed off in the direction of the coffee shop. "You comin', McCallister?" he asked cheekily.

"Right behind you, bozo."

"Good. Wouldn't want you getting lost."

-----------------------

The counter at the coffee shop was disproportionately high and someone had placed the display of cup sizes in such a way that it blocked the view of the bored clerk beyond; a clerk who, from a distance, could be seen staring blankly at the silent, flickering screen of a TV in the store opposite – Clint Eastwood dealing with some bad guys, his trusty magnum at the ready.

He waved Anne into a seat and waited at the counter for a minute or so before realizing that he was completely hidden. "Hello! I'm down here!"

"Oops, sorry," the young man said, leaning forward to peer over the counter. He quickly realized the problem and moved the cups. "Can I take your order, now, sir?"

Tony looked up at him. "Cappuccino and a large Columbian. And could I have a chocolate doughnut and a slice of carrot cake for the lady."

"That comes to $6.50."

The clerk accepted the cash Tony handed up to him. "Keep the change."

"I'll bring it out to you," said the clerk.

"Thanks," Tony replied, looking at him in surprise.

"That's okay. Do anything for a pretty face."

Tony gave the clerk a strange look. "Right…"

When Tony pulled up near the opposite side of the table and locked the brakes, Anne immediately noted his expression and asked, "What's up?"

He shoved an existing chair further around and then nudged into the position it had previously occupied, softly bumping the central base with the footrest and causing the table to rock slightly as he did so. "You're doing this deliberately, aren't you? Making me do all the work." There was a dull _thunk_ as he locked the brakes.

"You didn't answer my question. What's up?"

"Nothing's up," he said, clenching his jaw.

Anne raised her eyebrows, noting his stiff posture and knowing he wasn't being entirely truthful. He gave a deep sigh, and leaned more heavily into the chair back, turning his head as the clerk carried over a tray with the coffee. "Here you go," he said, standing uncomfortably close to Tony, his right leg brushing the wheel of the chair, and almost jabbing an elbow into Tony's head as he placed everything on the table. Anne took note of the body language, of her patient's frozen deer-in-the-headlights expression, and immediately tweaked to the by-play. She waited until they were alone again before speaking, her voice low. "Was he hitting on you?"

Tony nodded slowly.

"I guess that answers a question I bet you've been dying to ask: whether you're still attractive to other people." She looked at him thoughtfully as he smiled and picked up a packet of sugar from the dish on the table, delicately tore it open and spilled the contents into the cup. "Other than those silly, twittering nurses, that is."

"I'm sure Gibbs has filled you in on my reputation, thoroughly deserved, I might add," he smiled cheekily.

She nodded vaguely, "I've…seen it for myself." She watched as he tipped two more packets of sugar into the cup and stirred it. "Whoa, sugar overload! And Tony…a doughnut?" She raised her eyebrows. "Can you say 'cop stereotype?'"

"Cop stereotype," he parroted back. "Hey, I like doughnuts!" He looked over at the counter curiously to find that the clerk was studying him, and immediately looked away, taking a sip of the overly sweet, strong coffee.

Anne shook her head. "Look, I think we need to talk about a few things, but this isn't the time or place. And in answer to what you asked before, yes, I'm making you do all the work." She stopped to take a cautious sip of her hot, unsweetened cappuccino. "You're gonna be out in the big wide world on your own shortly. You won't have anyone to help you, and there won't necessarily be anyone you can ask. That was the whole object of this little excursion."

"Mall skills, 101. Got it."

She cut off a piece of carrot cake with the fork. "What do you want to do next?"

"Toothpaste and shaving cream?"

"What about a movie? There's a cinema on one of the other levels."

"Great. I've been wanting to see Seed of Chucky."

Anne looked at him doubtfully. "On second thoughts, maybe that's not such a good idea."

"What's wrong with Seed of Chucky?"

"Um…everything…" Anne replied, looking at him somewhat askance.

Tony donned an expression of mock hurt.

"Finish your coffee. We can discuss movie choice when we get there," Anne said by way of appeasement.

"Sure." He gave her a little smile.

Another customer wandered into the coffee shop, distracting the clerk from his frank contemplation of Tony's visage, and causing the subject of said frank contemplation to breathe a big sigh of relief.

Anne thoughtfully sipped her coffee while subjecting her patient to some scrutiny of her own. She'd seldom seen anyone with Tony's kind of clean good looks, and certainly never treated one. She could easily understand why he'd had the nurses swooning. In addition, when he chose to be sensible (which was most of the time with her), he was good company, good-natured, friendly and funny. He smiled, seeing her look at him.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask," he said, breaking the companionable silence.

"What's that?"

"What brought an Aus…Auzzie girl to this neck of the woods?"

"Long story," she said, smiling as he gestured for her to continue with a wave of a long-fingered hand. "I'll give you the potted version. My brother was working over here, had an accident. I was between jobs…came over to help with rehab. Hospital liked what they saw and cleared the red tape in record time. Here I am." She shrugged.

"Between jobs…" Tony mulled that over. "What's that mean?"

"It means I was unemployed."

"I know that. Why were you unemployed?"

Anne just smiled enigmatically. "Lady's gotta have some secrets," she said and winked. "You done?"

He tilted his empty cup so she could see.

"'Kay. Let's get going, then."

The cinema was on the next floor up. This time, the elevator ride was quieter, less eventful. "What happened to your brother?" Tony asked, by way of conversation, as the almost empty car traveled the single floor up. The door opened and Tony pushed out.

"Fully recovered. He's now in London."

"Guy gets around."

"Yeah, I guess. Goes with the job."

----------------------------

"Hmm…looks like you're out of luck on Seed of Chucky," Anne commented, half smiling as they both studied the overhead display listing the movie sessions. Chucky was listed for 5:15 pm. In fact, other than Shark Tale, the only film to suite the schedule was Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. Tony's long-suffering sigh told what he thought about that state of affairs.

"Ah, come on, DiNozzo. The first one was funny, don't see why this one would be any different."

"It's a chick-flick."

"So what? I'm a chick. Just pretend you're on a date. Or are you gonna tell me you'd take a date to see Seed of Chucky."

"I might," he said, ducking his head so she wouldn't see his expression, and half expecting a cuff on the back of the head. "On the other hand, I might take a date to Café Atlantico or…"

"All right, Tony, you don't have to justify yourself. Hey, some girls might like you to take them to Chucky."

"Right, that's how I see it," he smiled up at her. "I'm doing this am I?"

"Yup."

"Figures."

"I'll take it as a given that you want popcorn and drinks."

Tony looked at her in amazement. "Of course. What's a movie without popcorn?"

She gave his shoulder a squeeze and left him to buy tickets while she made a visit to the snack bar, despite the recent ingestion of coffee, doughnuts and cake.

"Your girlfriend talk you into a chick flick?" asked the attendant in the ticket office when Tony stated his preference.

"Yeah," he sighed, "but she's not my girlfriend."

"Cinema 4 – down the end and to the left."

Tony nodded his thanks, shoved the tickets and change into the thigh pocket of the cargo pants and turned to meet Anne at the bottom of the first of two ramps. She had her hands full with a drink in each hand and a large popcorn held against her body with one arm. "Hey, let me take that." He reached up for the popcorn, wedging it carefully between his legs.

"Ta," she said, allowing him to go up the first ramp ahead of her.

"What's this movie about, anyway?" Tony asked, looking up at the therapist quickly while they were on level ground.

"It's a comedy."

"Okay, but I think I guessed that."

"It's…well, you'll just have to wait and see. You'll have to use the disabled seating area – fire hazard thing."

He sighed and pushed up the second ramp. "Right, gotcha."

Cinema 4 was small, cramped and obviously in need of refurbishment, with worn carpet and a couple of pinholes in the curtain across the screen. The disabled seating consisted of a section either end of the back row where a couple of seats had been removed. Tony could see a split in the upholstery of one of the seats in front of him, where some of the stuffing poked through.

"Damn."

"What's up?"

"I'd like a center seat."

"Um, Tony, hate to say this, but you won't be able to get a center seat…unless you feel like hurdling across a dozen armrests."

He looked down the row of seats in the almost empty cinema and gave a long-suffering sigh. "This is annoying." He looked around. "And I don't have a drink holder, or anything to lean on..."

"Here, move yourself a bit closer. You can use this one," Anne said, swapping her drink over to the other side.

"Thanks," he said softly, slotting his drink into the holder. He eased the chair back and forward a couple of times, squeezing a bit closer, and leaned on the padded rest with his elbow. "It's still annoying, though."

"I know."

"The stuff I have to get used to…" He offered her some popcorn and then sat quietly as first some advertising, then a couple of trailers and finally the movie itself started to play, laughing in all the appropriate places, muttering a couple of times that both hero, heroine and resident cad, all needed a good shake. "These guys fight like sissies," he said quietly at one point. Anne looked over at him to see his reaction to the kiss between Bridget and the girl who she thought was her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend. She rolled her eyes at the grin on his face.

Anne quietly observed Tony, even as she enjoyed the film, and despite some obvious frustration with the frivolous drama on the screen, he did seem to get something out of it. At one point, she felt his arm snake across the backrest of her seat and leaned into the steady warmth with a smile. It wasn't a sexual gesture – just a sign of companionship and shared experience. All things considered, he seemed to be enjoying his day out. He had already proven himself to be a good patient, quick to learn new skills, and had worked steadily with weights to build strength, and while he became frustrated from time to time, it was usually short-lived, his good nature and high spirits carrying him through most things. Despite a strong tendency to fool around under normal circumstances, he usually took her advice, and was certainly keen to try different things. The day's outing was certainly showing both of them how far he had come from the recently injured paraplegic in the clamshell vest to the point where he was almost ready to resume his life.

----------------------------------

"Stop, thief!" the yell came as they wandered slowly along the main passage in the direction of the way out. Anne turned her head to see, while Tony swiveled around, and saw a disturbance back behind them as someone pushed their way through. As the someone drew near to them, Tony pushed himself out quickly. In the ensuing collision, two bodies ended up sprawled on the ground and a handbag slid across the floor, coming to rest at Anne's feet. Tony quickly scrabbled forward on his hands, grabbing the winded thief by one wrist and twisting his arm painfully up behind his back, to applause from some onlookers. He remained hunched, half lying over the body, and leaning across to grab the other wrist, while the slight thief bucked under him, pinned by Tony's heavier body weight. "Hey, git offa me," the thief squawked.

"I don't think so," Tony replied, holding on grimly.

"DiNozzo, you okay?" Anne asked, righting the wheelchair. She picked up the stolen bag and sat it on the seat.

"Fine," was the grim response.

"Security's coming," a voice said, as the circle around them parted.

A uniformed security guard arrived on the scene. "Hey, nice work," the guard commented, bending down to take over Tony's grip on the thief, pulling the boy to his feet as a second security guard escorted an elderly lady into the group.

Anne handed the purse to the second guard. "He dropped this," she said. Tony was preparing to transfer up into the wheelchair. The PT could see that he was red to the roots of his hair as he prepared to do this in public, and gave him a pat on the back by way of encouragement. "Good work, champ."

He gave a shrug. "Lucky trip."

"Yes, that's my bag," the old lady was saying to the security guard, oblivious to what was going on beside her.

Tony looked up at the faces watching him, and reached back to grip the chair frame, heaving himself up with a satisfied grunt, and then grinning up into the PT's smiling face as he settled himself properly. "That was a really stupid stunt, DiNozzo," Anne admonished. "What if he'd had a knife or something…"

"He didn't," said Tony.

Anne picked up Tony's bag of shopping from earlier, the contents still miraculously inside despite the recent misadventure.

The two security guards were now preparing to escort the "prisoner" back to the security office. Tony, seeing that they were distracted, said to Anne, "Come on, let's get out of here."

"You're not gonna hang around to make a statement?"

He looked at her and sighed, realizing he'd have to do exactly that, his cop training taking over from the desire to flee. "Guess I better."

----------------------------------

"Hospital's the other way," Tony commented dryly as Anne finally turned the car out of the exit from the parking lot and onto the street. It had taken an hour to sort out Tony's statement and get away from the gushing thanks of a very shaken old lady. Anne had also taken the opportunity to check that Tony hadn't injured himself in the fall, but other than a scrape on one elbow, he seemed to be fine.

"I know. You object to staying out a bit longer? Something I want to do before we go back."

"Whatever." He was starting to feel the effects of the day, and leaned tiredly into the door pillar.

"This'll be quick," she said.

-------------------------------------

"Hey, wakey-wakey. We're here."

"Huh?" Tony peeled himself off the door of the car where he had fallen asleep during the twenty-minute drive from the mall. He looked out the windshield at the façade of a familiar, modern apartment building and smiled.

"You okay? 'Cause we can always do this another day."

"No, no…it's fine. Just give me a minute." He looked out at the building again. "What're we doing here, anyway?"

"Well, aside from the obvious allure of visiting the DiNozzo bachelor pad," she said dryly, "you'll be going home soon and I need to do an assessment of what changes need to be made to accommodate your altered circumstances."

"Oh, okay…wheelchair access and all that."

"Right."

"How're we gonna get in? Gibbs has my keys."

"No he doesn't…"

"Oh, right…that's what he was doing yesterday…"

"Some of it, yes," she said with a strange smile.

"Okay." He looked out of the car reflectively. "Let's go, then."

He waited while Anne got out the wheelchair, transferring while she opened the trunk. He shut the door of the car and turned, curious to see what she was doing. She slammed the lid shut and faced him, holding a notebook and a carpenter's tape measure. "Right, let's do this." He nodded and turned back to the front of the building, taking a rough ride across the asphalt. He navigated the ramp up to the entrance easily, even though he was obviously tired. Anne gave Tony the keys as there was a security card-swipe to gain access through a set of glass doors – high, but not out of reach. He had become quieter – a sign of his weariness. They waited a few minutes at the bank of elevators for a car, and ascended to the seventh floor. Tony unlocked the door of apartment 5 and entered first, pushing the door back out of the way.

"Mmm…nice place," Anne said, following him in, "If a bit…spartan."

"Spartan?" Tony asked, looking back at her

"Blokey…impersonal…"

"Right." Tony looked around curiously, the place seeming strange after such a long absence. Anne took note of the living area, dominated by a large, tan leather sectional La-Z-Boy sofa and a 72 inch plasma screen TV, which formed the main part of what was obviously an expensive entertainment system. There was also a desk underneath the window on the far side, on which sat a computer with flat screen, a neat desk caddy containing pens, pencils, scissors and so on, notepad and phone.

"Never would have picked you for a neat-nick," Anne said, smiling.

"I have a maid," Tony bristled with prickly dignity.

Anne wandered over to the selection of DVDs and videos on a stand – a who's who of horror and action flicks, but with a notable omission – not one film involved vampires. "Hmm…definitely blokey," she said, running a finger down the cover of the first of the Alien movies.

Tony looked at his comfortable sofa and sighed. Many's the night he had spent asleep on the reclining segment of that sofa after one of his regular, interminably long, sixteen hour workdays, an opened beer slowly going flat on the side table beside him. "Not a lot of space for you to get through here," Anne said, noting the gap between the sofa and the kitchen counter which, owing to the sweep of the curved lounge, was the only access to the far side of the room. "Hmm…she said considering. "I guess the sofa can move forward a bit and still give you access to the entertainment unit."

"Yeah, I guess." Tony sat half way into the living room, watching as she moved the pieces of the sofa out of the way experimentally.

"The carpet has a nice short pile – shouldn't be a problem."

"No, it's okay," he confirmed.

"Okay, want to try this?"

He pushed through the gap between the kitchen counter and the sofa fairly easily, and came to a stop at the desk. While Anne watched, he moved the desk chair out of the way and was able to move in front of the desk, although not without some hesitation. "I could get the desk moved over to the other side and shift everything across a bit – that would probably be easier."

"True, but do you want to do that?"

"No, that's fine. Minor adjustment."

"Okay." She made a note in the notebook. "Kitchen." Anne entered the kitchen area. The whole set up was immaculate, virtually unused. "Tony, has this oven ever been used?"

"I…don't cook…" he said.

"What, not at all? Not even reheat stuff?"

"I have a microwave for that," he said somewhat indignantly.

"Irrespective of that, if you ever did decide to learn to cook, you couldn't use this. You should get one with the knobs at the front. And the counter needs to be lowered." She scratched in the notebook. "The cupboard under the sink needs to be opened up so you can run the wheelchair underneath it – makes it easier for access – you do use the sink, right?"

"Yeah, I use the sink," he said, sounding a little grumpy.

"Anything in the high cupboards needs to be moved lower. If there's anything you don't want or need very often, I suggest swapping…"

"Noted."

She opened the fridge. "Man, you can tell a guy lives here – look at all the beer!"

Tony perked up a bit at that, taking some interest in the contents of the kitchen. "Did you say beer?"

"I did."

"I have beer? Really? Oh wait...Gibbs."

Tony grinned for the first time since they'd pulled up outside. "All right, DiNozzo, no need to try to charm it out of me. Let's finish this and then you can chill for a bit." She looked at the refrigerator thoughtfully. "Okay, need you here, she said. "Can you reach into the top of the freezer?" She waited for him to move into the kitchen and attempt the stretch. "Right, I think a shorter refrigerator is in order. Maybe one of the upside-down type would be better."

"Okay, sure."

She left the kitchen and turned down the hallway.

"Bedroom's on the right," Tony grinned.

Anne opened the door and peered in. A king-size bed dominated the room, covered with a thick black comforter. There was a mirror-door type closet. A low chest of drawers running under the window completed the furnishings. The whole thing was completely impersonal. He didn't seem to have left an imprint on any of it. There were no pictures, no personal touches anywhere in the whole apartment so far.

"The racks in the closet need to be lowered or a second rack installed. No way you can reach the hangers."

"Hey, I can still reach them!"

"Okay, hotshot, take that suit down."

Tony reached up into the closet. Like he said, he could reach the hangers, but the height and the awkward angle he was at caused him quite a bit of difficulty. The pants slid off the hanger onto the floor and he was unable to catch them.

He looked up at Anne, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I guess I should add a lower rack for the heavy stuff."

"Right"

Anne opened the door into the two-way bathroom and was pleasantly surprised by the size of the room. "This is pretty good,' she said, looking around. There was a large triangular spa-bath, a shower with plenty of space, a sink with no cupboard underneath and a low cabinet immediately above containing toiletries, and so on. "You'll have plenty of room to move in here," she said to him through the door. "Shower bench and adjustable shower rose"

"Shower rose?" Tony asked.

"You know, one of those things on a hose."

"Gotcha."

"Lower the taps. Grab rails on the bathtub. Raise the level of the pedestal and put in some grab rails there as well."

"Okay."

Anne shooed him back out of the way so she could come out the way she'd gone in. "Linen cupboard – well, I think you know what to do there."

"Anything I use all the time down low, anything else can disappear up the top."

"Okay, think we're done here."

"Good, 'cause I can hear the beer calling."

Tony fetched a couple of beers from the fridge while Anne continued making notes, comfortably seated on the sofa, her legs curled up under her. "Ta," she said, accepting the cold bottle and popping the lid. "All things considered, this isn't too bad."

He thought for a moment before transferring onto the sofa, having already moved the small end table, raising the footrest and leaning back into the reclining seat comfortably. Waves of bliss poured off him. "That's good," he said, and took a long draught from the bottle. "Sorry, should have offered you a glass, shouldn't I?"

"Na, this is fine," she said.

"True," he agreed, closing his eyes.

"Feels good?" Anne asked, reviewing her notes while Tony relaxed.

"Feels good," he confirmed. He raised the bottle of beer and took a long swallow, then held it in both hands, the base resting somewhere around belly button level. Anne couldn't help smiling at his relaxed pose, the slight upward curve of sensual lips, the uncreased brow over closed eyes.

"Hey, Tony, don't go to sleep on me," she said.

"I'm not," he said, raising the bottle for another sip.

"Now the one major problem I can see is this: you live on the seventh floor. If there's a fire…can't use the elevator…"

"Crispy fried Tony?" he grinned at his own joke. "Guess I'll have to crawl down the stairs."

"You got any good strong lads for neighbors?"

Tony glared at her, thinking of the clerk's advances earlier.

Anne ignored the glare and continued, "You could get a couple of strong lads to give you a fireman's lift downstairs."

"Don't know," he said shortly. "Never really met the neighbors, other than…"

"Other than what?"

"Never mind," he said. "Look, a fire…I won't say it can't happen, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. At least the doors aren't alarmed like the ones at NCIS HQ."

"Okay."

Anne scratched at the notebook for a few more minutes. "It's getting late," she said, stretching. "You'll have missed dinner. Fancy some takeaway?"

Tony looked at her blankly. "There are times I really wish you came with subtitles," he said seriously.

"Would you like some takeout? I'm buying."

"Chinese?" he grinned broadly.

"Anything you like."

"You're on, McCallister," he said.

"Now, while we're here, do we need to check the parking garage for access?"

Tony closed his eyes again, thinking about the set up in the basement. "No. Elevator is on the same level as the floor. Plenty of space for access. My parking space is the end one in the section – nothing on one side. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good."

---------------------------------

Tony slowly made his way back to his room in the rehab section, two shopping bags slung over the back of the chair and a couple of containers of Chinese food precariously balanced on his lap. Anne had driven him up to the door of the building, but he refused her offer to come in with him, tired or not. He entered the room and set the food down on the table on the right hand wall before becoming aware that he wasn't alone. "Abby?"

"Hey, Tony." Abby smiled. She had obviously been there for some time, as she had a magazine across her knees, and a reddened spot on her face marked where she'd been leaning on her hand, an elbow on his bed. "How ya doin'?"

He shrugged a non-committal response.

"Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Sure I am, Abbs." He summoned up some manners from somewhere deep within, tired as he was. "Hungry?"

"It's not Café Atlantico, but yeah, I am," she replied with a grin, thinking that he looked exhausted.

"Help yourself," he gestured to the food. "I'll be back in one minute," he said, turning his wheelchair and rolling into the bathroom. There was the sound running water and he came back a moment later with splashes of spray on his shirt and drips on the back of his hands where he'd washed them, by which time Abby was already peering curiously into one of the waxed cardboard containers.

------------------------

Tony wearily transferred into the bed. Abby had stayed for about an hour, and while he enjoyed her company, he was just simply too worn out by the day to be much fun. He had been relieved when she left, and had immediately made preparations for sleep. The good thing about being in rehabilitation is that he was pretty much his own boss in this respect. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows.

**A/N**: Yay! Looks like it uploaded without corruptions this time :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter 1. Nothing has changed except my home address.

**A/N**: Many thanks, as usual, to Alaidh for the beta, ideas, co-conspiring and general lunacy. One more chapter to go (I think). Enjoy, folks.

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, wake up, you lazy boy." The sudden sound next to Tony's ear startled him out of a deep slumber. He blinked into the bright fluorescent light that had suddenly flared on in his room.

"Wha…"

"Wake up! It's time to get up!"

"No it's not," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging the topmost pillow tightly. "Go away!" There was a thud and a scraping noise, and finally Tony was forced to open his eyes and look around. "Hey! What're you doing?! I need that!" he said in alarm, seeing the wheelchair pushed up against the wall of the room, way out of reach.

"No, you don't," the voice said, closer to him this time. Tony looked at the apparition that had so soundly disturbed his rest. The person who owned the voice was a short, dumpy woman of middle age wearing a nightgown and a pair of well-worn slippers. Her eyes were currently crinkled by a condescending smile. "Come on, get up. This is no time for lazy boys to lie in bed."

"No, I'm not getting up," Tony said in frustration. He heard a siren blaring in the background as he pushed himself up and back from the edge of the bed, avoiding the clasping fingers as they tried to get a grip on his forearm. He was aware that he could be in trouble if the apparition did manage to pull him out of bed, owing to the as yet incomplete healing of his damaged vertebrae. Tony grimaced as the TLSO vest, which he'd left on the seat of the wheelchair, noisily clattered to the floor.

"Come on, up you get." She grabbed his arm and started pulling. Tony jerked back from the clawing fingers, resisting strongly, as she tried to pull him off the bed.

"Hey, quit that!" He looked back over his shoulder at the door of the room and called out. "Hey! Somebody please! Need some help here!" He fell forward, scrabbling with his free hand for a grip on the side of the bed in order to push back. "Stop it! I'm gonna fall!"

"What's all the noise?" the night nurse said, sticking her head around the door. "Estelle? What are you doing here?" Estelle immediately released Tony's arm, and the nurse lent some support, helping him to scramble back into the middle of the bed. She then called over her shoulder urgently, "Lizzie, can you give us a hand?"

"Coming," a muffled voice replied.

"Come on, Estelle, let's get you back where you belong," the nurse gently pulled the woman away from Tony, her expression apologetic. "Sorry about this," she said. "Lizzie, where are you?"

"I'm here," Lizzie replied, coming up behind her.

"Can you make sure Tony's okay while I take Estelle back to psych," she said.

"Sure, Lynne." She waited until Lynne had escorted the intruder from the room before picking up the TLSO and placing it back on the seat of the wheelchair, which she pushed back beside the bed and locked the brakes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. What was all that about?" Tony asked, settling back against the pillows. He rubbed the area on his forearm where Estelle's fingers had dug in painfully.

"Estelle used to be a nurse in the ER here. She had a bad breakdown a few years back and…well…every once in a while she gets out and…"

"Tries to get the lazy boys to get out of bed?"

"Something like that. She has a fixation about lazy boys lying in bed all day."

"Right…guess I don't need to point out it's the middle of the night," Tony said, squinting myopically at the face of the watch he'd picked up from the night stand. He snuggled down into the bed, turning onto his side to hug the pillow once more.

"You okay now?"

"Yeah, sure. Just…" he unsuccessfully tried to smother a yawn, "tired."

------------------------

"Good morning. I hear you had quite a night." Anne had looked for Tony in his room, but eventually found him in the cafeteria eating breakfast.

Tony looked up from the plate of food he'd been playing with rather than eating into Anne's smiling face. His sleep, after the disturbance, had been fitful and it showed in his slightly drawn appearance. "Yeah," he said putting down his fork and reaching for the coffee instead. "Had a visit from the local loony. Thing is, can't help wondering if in some respects she's not right, whether I am a lazy boy."

"Look, Estelle Green has issues of her own to deal with. Don't let it worry you."

He shrugged. "Am I lazy, though?"

"Not from what I've seen, certainly not with the physical stuff. I've had to slow you down a few times, as I recall."

"I was lazy at school. Lazy academically."

"So was I," she grinned, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite him. "And what does it matter now. We both have jobs we like. Heck, you've got a boss who wants you back in any way, shape or form as soon as you're fit for light duties…ay-sap…" she drawled. "Stop moping just because some crackpot said you're lazy. It just isn't true. The only La-Z-Boy is in that blokey apartment of yours."

He grinned at her.

"Now, bozo, if you're done playing with your food, we've got a lot to get through today."

"We do?"

"We do," she said, holding up her hands and counting off on the fingers of one. "Aside from the usual stuff, you have an appointment in radiology and you're booked in for a driving lesson at three."

"I already know how to drive," he pointed out.

"You know how to drive with your feet, and need I point out that they don't work any more."

"Right." He gave her a wry grin.

"You're gonna have to retake the state road test." Anne reflected briefly on the fact that Tony was one of the best adjusted clients she'd ever had. He seemed to take most things in his stride, treating it all as an adventure.

Tony sighed deeply. "Right. Guess my police driver training doesn't count."

"Not unless you did it on adaptive equipment."

"Guess they must have left that out of the curriculum," he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"Come on," she said, standing up. "Let's get cracking."

-------------------------

"Tony, this is Toni Brown."

"Hiya…Toni," he said, somewhat bemused by the name.

"Tony," she said, offering her hand in a firm handshake. "I'm your official driving instructor."

Tony looked up into a pair of steady brown eyes. She looked almost as Italian as he didn't – short, and solidly built, with a plain but pleasant face framed by dark wavy hair, currently tied in a high ponytail. She wore an official uniform consisting of gray pants and a light blue polo shirt with the word instructor embroidered across the pocket.

"Have fun," Anne said, giving Tony's shoulder a squeeze. "And if he gives you any trouble, swat him."

"Gee, thanks." Tony turned one of his glowing smiles on Toni. "Well…"

"Come on, let's do this?"

"Yeah," Tony said, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously. "Look…I'm…I'm just a bit…"

"Nervous? That's understandable."

Tony rubbed his head self-consciously. "Yeah, just a little."

Toni smiled at him. "You'll be fine. Here's the car," she said, gesturing to a late model Chevy Cavalier. "Okay," she continued, opening the door. "Now. There are several different types of hand controls – push/twist, right angle pull, and push/pull. The easiest one to learn is push/pull, and that's what you'll be starting with." Tony nodded and bit his lip, leaning forward to see, noting that the controls connected to the foot pedals, giving a dual control system, which he figured made sense. "Push/pull hand controls are defined as being single-action – the lever is pulled for gas, pushed for brakes. There's no chance of confusion – gas and brakes can't be operated at the same time."

"Uh-huh."

"Now I'd normally start you off on a simulator, but damn thing is busted. So, what we're gonna do is just find some quiet streets…"

"Right. Um, Toni?"

"Yeah."

"That…short for something?"

"Nope. My parents wanted a boy."

"Uh-huh. So the name is…"

"Just a coincidence." She smiled at him. "Come on, you can observe for a while."

Toni parked the car on a quiet side street, and then Tony completed the time-consuming task of transferring out of the passenger side and moving around to the driver's side. He moved the seat back before transferring back in. His legs were too long to hurdle the center console, gearshift and all, to climb into the driver's seat.

"Is the position of the seat okay?" Toni asked, folding the wheelchair to stash it in the back seat.

"It's…fine," he replied.

She got in and buckled the seatbelt. "You wanna start the engine?" She took him through the controls again and he tested them cautiously with the gear lever still in Park, brow creased in concentration. "Now, you wanna try this in a moving vehicle?"

"Sure," he sighed. He pushed the lever away from his body to engage the brake, released the parking brake and put the car in gear, and moved off, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence, along the quiet, tree-lined street.

"Turn right at the next intersection," Toni instructed. "Take your time."

He brought the car to a smooth stop at the corner, the thumb-operated indicator clicking, and carefully checked the street he was turning onto before moving off slowly, steadily accelerating onto the other street. He was half way round when a car shot out of nowhere at high speed, heading right for them. Tony froze for an instant, then thrust the lever forward – hard – and turning the steering wheel away, brought the car to a fast, if slightly rocky stop, avoiding collision by a fraction of an inch. The other car honked noisily, the driver giving him the finger, and roared off down the street. Tony sat white-faced, staring out the windshield.

"Hey, you can breathe now," Toni said, touching his shoulder. He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding with a gasp and looked at the small, plain woman sitting beside him to find she was grinning broadly. "That was good work," she said.

"Thanks." He took a couple of deep breaths to calm his racing heart, then with a quick, quirky flash of a smile, started the car moving again. Forty minutes later, Tony drove the car back into the parking lot at the rehab center and stopped outside the door. After shutting off the engine, Tony rolled his tight shoulders to release the tension while Toni pulled out some paperwork.

"Well, I know this all seems a big hassle to you, but there's some paperwork we'll have to get sorted out, and we may as well get it started now as later."

"Paperwork?"

"Yep, paperwork. Here's the form you'll need for either disabled tags or license. You'll need to get this filled in and properly notarized. There's also a page your physician needs to complete." She handed him the four-page form, together with some other associated information. He flicked through the papers curiously before folding them and put them in the pocket of his shirt while he waited for Toni to bring the wheelchair around. "You did pretty well today. We'll have you on the road in no time at all."

"Thanks."

"See ya tomorrow," Toni said, starting the engine of the car once more to drive out of the parking lot.

Tony, looking out across the tarred expanse of the parking lot before entering the building, saw Anne leaning back against her car talking to someone, a tall, male someone. As he turned to go inside, he glimpsed the someone wrapping his arms around her. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers in a deep kiss, while he pressed her body back against the door of the car. Tony, with a little smile, turned away to enter the building.

-----------------------

"Who's the guy?" Tony asked the PT curiously as she started on some stretches the following morning.

"What guy?" she asked in reply as she manipulated his left leg.

"The one I saw you with yesterday."

Anne's only response was an enigmatic smile.

Tony nodded knowingly. "Ah, so Miss Impervious has a boyfriend. Who'd'a thought that."

"Now I know why Gibbs told me to swat you on the head if you stepped out of line."

Tony grinned at her.

-----------------------

_"Top End Terminator Titanium," Tony read. "Terminator. Hmm…like the name," he said with a grin. "Sounds like a chair worthy of Arnold." _

_"I'll be back," replied Anne with a grin, doing her best to imitate a Schwarzenegger voice._

"I'll be back…" Tony mused, looking at the note Anne had left on the seat of the wheelchair in his room.

"This came while you were out. I know you're going to want to try it out for yourself now if not sooner, so I won't try to stop you. Just be careful. You'll find it a lot different to what you've been using. And remember, _I'll be back_…Anne.

"PS. Read the manual."

"Read the manual?" Tony snorted, slightly affronted that she thought he wouldn't. "Now she sounds like my mother." Tony picked up the manual that'd been left under the note and flicked through to the last page. "Dammit, it's 60 pages long!" He tapped it against his chin, thinking for a minute, then opened it at a random page – a page full of warnings, as it turned out. "Do not tip the wheelchair without assistance. Do not operate on roads, streets or highways. Do not stand on the frame of the wheelchair – yeah, right, that's gonna happen. Do not use the footplate as a platform when getting in or out of the wheelchair…right, yeah. Always wear your seat-positioning strap. I'm not wearing a damned seatbelt. Do not…always…blah! What exactly _can_ I do in this thing?!" He closed the booklet and tossed it on the bed. "I can sit in it," he said, grinning to himself as he prepared to transfer.

------------------------

"Do not tip the wheelchair without assistance." Tony read the line out loud as Anne entered his room the following morning. He was ready for the gym, sitting in the new wheelchair, a smile plastered on his face. "Do not tip the wheelchair without assistance," he repeated. "If I'm not supposed to tip this thing, how come you've been teaching me how to do wheelies?"

"They're covering their asses," she replied. "Don't wanna get sued if someone gets hurt."

Tony nodded.

"Truth is, wheelies are important. You're gonna need them, and by the way, nice to see you're actually reading the instructions," she laughed.

"Well, I've skimmed them, at least," he replied.

"Looks good on you, anyway, hotshot. Hmm…basic black. Nice." She stood back to study him.

Tony grinned a response.

"How's it feel?"

"Good, it feels…really good," he said, pushing toward the door. "Guess this means I'm going home soon."

"Sooner than you think." She paused before continuing. "Tony, do me a favor…"

"Sure."

"I know you're gonna take the anti-tippers off sooner or later. Just don't do it too soon, 'kay?"

"I'll think about it," he said.

------------------------

"Brought your mail," Gibbs said, dumping a pile of envelopes on the table in front of Tony where he sat in the cafeteria, lingering over an after-lunch coffee. He sat down opposite Tony in a plastic seat he pulled out from the next table.

"Oh, hey boss, how ya doin'?" He looked at his watch. "Strange time for you to be here."

"On my way out to Georgetown. Thought it'd save time if I stopped by now rather than later."

Tony gave his boss a slightly longing look. "Oh. Okay. Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, you can get yourself fit for duty, DiNozzo."

Tony sighed. "But boss, I'm going nuts. I need something to do."

"No!" Gibbs response brooked no argument, and Tony grinned, realizing he wasn't gonna get anywhere, even though it had been worth a try. Gibbs stood to go – his visits were seldom long, but were enough to let his junior staff member know that he was missed. "Hey, see you got a new chair," Gibbs said, noting that Tony had finally shed the hospital-supplied rehab chair for something more streamlined.

"Check it out boss! It's only fifteen pounds!" Tony transferred into the plastic chair Gibbs had just vacated. "See? Lift it!"

"DiNozzo, I'm not gonna lift up your chair."

Tony took a secret delight in realizing that he'd made Gibbs feel uncomfortable. "It has a custom-built seamless titanium rigid frame with tapered front frame and…"

"I'm also not gonna listen to you recite the stats."

"But, boss…"

Gibbs fixed him with a glare.

"Okay, Gibbs." Tony's expression would have melted anyone except Gibbs.

"Look," he paused, unsure how to go on as Tony transferred back into the chair. It pained him to see the effort it now took the previously free moving and athletic DiNozzo to do this. "I want you back at work at your desk, but don't rush things, right? Do your reps, get yourself fit, and I'll do the hard miles to get you back in the office, 'kay?"

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs turned to leave, but then stepped back and cuffed the young agent across the back of the head.

"Hey! What was that for??"

"Just testing out the new height. I like it." Gibbs grinned evilly. "Don't have to reach up any more." Gibbs stepped away, heading for the exit. Tony rubbed the back of his head ruefully, then was startled into action as Gibbs tossed a set of keys to him with a single word utterance. "Catch."

"What's this?"

"Dark blue Taurus. Bay 4 in the parking lot."

Tony looked up at him with a kind of wonder on his face. "Thanks, boss."

-----------------------

Tony stopped the car in the street opposite the modern apartment block and looked up at the building. Harsh summer sun reflected from the windows of the multi-story building, and from the windshield of a car in the visitors' lot in front. He scratched the back of his head, feeling a little nervous, not sure if he was ready to go home, but anticipating the freedom this step entailed. _"Oh, and by the way, you're going home tomorrow."_ He still couldn't believe it. The bombshell had been dropped on him completely out of the blue. He had known it would be soon, but twenty-four hours later, here he was in a government issue vehicle with a weird little potted plant sitting on the seat beside him.

Gibbs had somehow managed to push his DMV assessment through in record time, and he could now legally drive the NCIS Taurus. A lot of the credit for that was due to the ever-patient Toni, who had given him an intensive training course over a period of weeks instead of the more usual months. Gibbs had also pushed through the building work and alterations to the apartment, and was apparently working on making the work environment more wheelchair friendly. He looked up at the building again, picking out what he thought was his own window, and smiled, then gently pulled out into the traffic again and turned left into the driveway of the underground parking garage.

Tony rode the elevator up from the basement, his bag of clothes with the plant balanced precariously on top, on his knees. The elevator trip was almost anti-climactic after all the anticipation. It felt strange to be in the apartment – like it wasn't his home any more. The place felt different due to the changes and rearrangement of the furniture. While he'd never exactly made a big imprint on the place, it had always been his domain. He wasn't sure if he liked it, and it troubled him. He felt violated in some way – even more so than he had been by the gun blast that had taken out his spinal cord. Up until now, he had taken the injury in his stride as being part of the job, but this seemed more like an invasion of his privacy.

He left the plant and his keys on the kitchen counter and his bag of clothes on the end of the bed and came back to the living room. He sat at the entrance to the room and studied the new layout. The curved end of the La-Z-Boy sofa now abutted the far wall where the desk had been. The entertainment unit had moved across to the right with the desk now situated to the left of it rather than up against the far wall. The sofa had also been moved slightly forward to allow access to the windows. There were indentations in the carpet where the feet of the heavy sofa and the base of the entertainment unit had rested. They annoyed him for some reason and he made a mental note to find out how to fix them.

_"Somebody tossed this place." Gibbs said, walking across to the table under the window._

_"How can you tell?" Tony asked._

_"Furniture indentations on the carpet. No fingerprints or smudges on the icebox – or on the microwave."_

"Kinda describes this place," he said out loud, feeling bemused by it all.

After the noise and bustle of the hospital and the rehab centre, the stillness of the apartment was overwhelmingly oppressive. Most of the occupants of the building were out – either at work or play – at this time of day. Even the elevator had been quiet. Tony was starting to feel unnerved by the silence. The crackle of his clothing as he moved, the sound his fingers made as he tapped the tire of one wheel of the chair, even his breathing seemed unnaturally loud. He sighed loudly, not sure what to do now that he was home and eventually swiveled around to go into the kitchen to check through the cupboards. "Dammit, no Cap'n Crunch! Gotta do something about that." He checked further through the kitchen cupboards and started putting together a list of groceries…of sorts. He couldn't help thinking that Kate, or Anne, or even Abby would probably be horrified by what he noted down – Cap'n Crunch being the least of his sins.

A loud bang from the corridor made him jump out of his skin. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "Gees, why are you so spooked, DiNozzo?" His stomach rumbled noisily. "Hungry, and not a snack in the place. Guess I need to do some shopping." He gave a deep sigh.

The supermarket was busy at 3.45 pm on a Wednesday – full of tired mothers with screaming children and teenagers. With all the disabled parking spaces taken – and not a swing tag or disabled license in sight, Tony found himself driving in circles looking for a parking spot with a little extra space – one on the end of a row, for preference. It took him a good ten minutes or so to find one, during which time he almost turned around and went back home. The space he found was in a corner with a triangular section beside it in the corner, too small for a car, although it would probably hold a motorcycle.

There was a slight incline down to the shops. And although it was easy to navigate, Tony was thankful for the gloves Anne had forced on him as a parting gift for his "graduation". He could feel the friction on his hands as he rolled down. He threaded his way through a group of teenagers hanging around the entrance and slowed to navigate a bump in the paving.

"Woof!" The booming bark sounded right in his ear and he turned his head to be confronted by a large muzzle as the woof's owner planted a pair of large paws on his knee and proceeded to lick his face.

"Ack!" He looked into the shining brown eyes of a large golden retriever. "Hey, where did you come from?"

"Kika! Come here!" a woman called frantically.

The dog looked around and barked again. "Kika, is that your name?" He ruffled the dog's soft ears, attempting to push the animal back out of his face. The dog licked at his chin and he tried to move his face out of the way, only succeeding in getting his neck washed instead. Tony, feeling himself being pushed backwards, reached down and locked the brake on the opposite side, halting his backward progress. Kika then tried to crawl into his lap. "Hey! Hey, dog. Cut it out."

"Kika!"

"I think I found your dog." Tony looked up into the face of a blonde haired woman wearing glasses and carrying an ice cream cone.

"I'm terribly sorry. She got away from me. Kika, get down." The woman took hold of Kika's leash and tried to persuade her to get down.

"No, no, it's okay, really." Kika, her body halfway onto his lap, planted a large paw on Tony's shoulder and tried to lick him again. "She likes to sit in people's laps, I'm afraid."

"Kika, icecream." The woman showed the dog the cone, and she immediately got down, her eyes following the treat. "Good girl. Come on, let's go home."

"See ya later, dog."

"And thanks for catching her."

"You're welcome." Tony, shaking his head in amusement, pushed off in the direction of the supermarket again.

--------------------------

Tony, a plastic shopping basket on his lap, glared up at the Cap'n Crunch, located on the top shelf of the supermarket. "Excuse me," he said a middle-aged woman pushing a very full shopping cart. "Would you be able to pass me down some Cap'n Crunch?"

"Oh, for your children?""

"Um, no," he replied sheepishly. "Actually, it's for me."

The woman looked at him in mock horror. "Which one would you like?"

"Crunch Berries, please. It has the best action figures," he grinned.

"There you are, dear," the woman laughed.

"Thanks." Tony placed the box in the basket and headed for the snack food aisle.

Tony waited in line at the checkout feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. He was accustomed to being the tall guy in most groups, and he was now finding how hard it was to not only be short, but incapacitated as well. He had been fine doing this with Anne, who had followed up the initial Mall Skills 101 with a couple more such excursions. Doing it on his own was a lot more daunting. He missed the distraction of her steady stream of chatter and tidbits of information, and the visual distraction she'd been, as well. Tony morosely reflected on all of this as he waited, absent-mindedly staring at the midriff of the slightly overweight woman unloading a shopping cart full of groceries, a child in the safety seat, ahead of him. He could see her belly button where she brushed against the edge of the shopping cart as she unloaded it for scanning, causing her t-shirt to ride up. The child, a fat toddler with a halo of blonde curls, stared down at him from his perch, sucking on his thumb, and adding further insult to injury.

Tony, tired of being the subject of the child's candid gaze, stuck his tongue out. The child, startled, stopped sucking his thumb, and stuck his tongue out at Tony in reply. Tony grinned and tried to think of something else to do. He waggled his eyebrows and twitched his nose, and stuck his hand under his chin and wriggled his fingers. The little boy grinned and pointed at him, kicking a pair of chubby legs. Tony poked his tongue out again, and the kid laughed at him, attracting his mother's attention.

"Aaron, are you bothering the man?"

Tony looked up at her, grinning, "No, he's fine," he said. She smiled at him, then pushed the shopping cart through the narrow lane between the cash registers, blocking his view of the child.

Tony reached up about to put his whole basket of items on the conveyor belt for scanning only to have the cashier lower it for him. "Whoa! That's neat!" he exclaimed, handing her the backpack that came with the wheelchair to pack the shopping into.

The cashier smiled down at Tony. "Yes, there're four checkouts with the same feature. We had them installed a couple of years ago. I guess this isn't your regular supermarket."

Tony sighed, "Well, yes it is, actually. I just haven't been here...well...since..."

The woman nodded her understanding and began ringing his items through. "If, at any time, you need some assistance in carrying items, either in the store or to your car, just let us know. There's always someone available to assist you. We can also do home deliveries."

Tony smiled up at her. "Hey, thanks. That's great."

Tony hung the laden backpack from the back of the chair, looping the straps over each corner with some help from the cashier and went back out to the concourse. The slope back up to the car looked a lot steeper going the other way. His shoulders were starting to burn by the time he made it back to the car. Sitting behind the wheel, he debated with himself whether or not it was too early to do something about dinner. Eventually he decided that it was too early, even for someone with his cast-iron stomach, and headed for home.

-----------------

Once back home, Tony found himself feeling a bit happier about things. He'd accomplished something on his own without it being too much of a disaster, and the building was now less quiet – coming to life as people came home from work and school. He didn't feel nearly so spooked about it. He found himself drawn to the La-Z-Boy and set himself up with a packet of unsalted nuts and a beer, and with the DVD of Halloween II playing in the machine, he lay back happily.

He was just in the process of falling asleep when the phone rang. "Dammit, I forgot to turn on the machine," he said, as the phone rang and rang. Grumbling, he hit pause on the remote control, brought the recliner back to upright, placed his beer on the nearest corner of the coffee table, and transferred, the phone still ringing.

"Hello?" he said, picking up the receiver.

"Anthony, sweetheart."

"Oh, hi, Mom," he replied, inwardly groaning.

"I called the rehab center. They told me you went home."

"Yeah, I'm home."

"Is that wise? I mean, isn't it a little soon?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's fine. They said I could go."

"It's just…"

"You're worried about me?" he said dryly. "I'm touched, Mom." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you care, but it really is okay, you know. I'm fine here. If I need any help with anything, I'll let you know."

"That's all right, sweetheart. I know you have to do things your own way."

"Look, I'll call you next week, okay?"

"Sure. Bye, darling."

"Bye, Mom."

Tony hung up, thinking, _I gotta get me a cordless phone, _and made a point of turning on the answering machine before returning to his seat in front of the TV to resume watching the movie. An hour later, the phone rang again. Tony listened as the answering machine picked up. "DiNozzo, it's Gibbs. You there? Call me back at work," the gruff voice said. Tony ignored the message in favor of watching the end of the movie before transferring again. He was just in the process of changing DVDs when the phone rang again. With the DVD case on his lap and the disk in his hand, he answered the call, "Hey."

"DiNozzo, why didn't you return my call?"

"I was about to, boss," he said using an injured tone, trying to put the DVD back in the case one-handed. "Hey, boss, you know they got these conveyor belts at the supermarket that actually lower down?"

"DiNozzo, I didn't call to ask you about shopping."

"Oh, okay, boss." Tony attempted to press the DVD into the box only to have the whole lot slide off his lap onto the floor. The box skidded forward and came to rest against the entertainment unit, but the disk itself disappeared from view.

"I just wanted to tell you that I've spoken to the Director and he's agreed to let you back on light duties from the 23rd – provided your doctor clears you."

"Um…yeah…" he said, distractedly looking for the disk. He eventually found it underneath the wheelchair and reached down to try and get it. Gibbs, at the other end of the phone line, heard a muffled, "Ah, crap," and a thud, coupled with a crackling noise as the phone hit the floor.

"DiNozzo? DiNozzo?! You there?"

Tony fumbled for the phone, finding it half buried under his body. "Yeah, boss, I'm here," he said, sounding a little sheepish.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Gibbs," Tony replied testily, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could straighten up, and nearly ending up dropping it again. His cheek hurt, and feeling it, he found a lump where he'd hit the coffee table. His head was pounding uncomfortably.

"Didn't sound like nothing to me," Gibbs replied suspiciously.

"Look, it was nothing," Tony repeated. "Thanks for the news, but I gotta go." Tony broke the connection instantly, pulling the base unit of the phone off the desk where it had remained, despite the earthward plummeting of the handset. Putting the two together, he stretched up to put them on the desk.

Gibbs looked at his handset. He wondered what the hell had gotten into Tony, but was satisfied that he hadn't come to any actual harm.

Tony put a hand out and immediately came into contact with the errant DVD, which he replaced in its case and put on the coffee table. The wheelchair was another matter, it had rolled several feet away. He looked at it morosely. "Okay, so maybe the lightweight chair wasn't such a good idea after all." He sighed. He dragged himself backwards, only to have the phone fall off the desk again when his heel grabbed on the cord. "Dammit!" he yelled and flung it across the room, ripping the cable out of the socket in the process, along with the answering machine, which also fell and was dragged along by the cable until it reached the end of its extension lead. He punched a fist into his useless leg, and then sat breathing heavily while he calmed down.

Tony looked back at the wheelchair, then across to where the phone had landed near the end of the sofa, trying to decide which problem to tackle first. Looking at the phone, he thought, _Well, that was a stupid thing to do, DiNozzo_. He was annoyed with himself, firstly for falling in the first place – as if the dire warnings in the wheelchair manual hadn't been enough – and secondly for the temper tantrum that led to throwing the phone. He scrabbled forward and grabbed the answering machine lead, pulling the phone in like a fisherman. He put them both up on the desk and fed the cables over the back to plug them in behind. Squashing under the desk to do this wasn't easy, but he got the job done finally. Eventually, he was back to square one – hoping that both devices worked – and back in the wheelchair, just as the buzzer on the intercom rang.

"Yes?"

"Pizza for DiNozzo."

"I didn't order a pizza," Tony said, somewhat confused.

"Well someone did. Prepaid."

_Gibbs,_ he thought. "Okay, come on up." He pressed the button to open the security door.

A slightly bemused pizza delivery boy brought the pizza in and left it on the kitchen counter for Tony rather than burning his legs, accepted a tip, and was gone. Tony subjected the receipt to close scrutiny, but other than a price, his name and address, there was no clue as to the anonymous donor of his meal.

Tony looked over at the desk as the phone rang again, immediately going to answer. "Hey?"

"Hey, DiNozzo."

"Oh, hey, Gibbs. Thanks for the pizza."

"You're welcome. Just thought I'd make sure it got there."

"It's here."

"Go eat it while it's hot."

"Yeah, ah, boss, just one thing…" Tony continued. "Don't suppose you'd come and look at some cars with me."

"Why? You got a car to drive."

"Gibbs…it's a Taurus. Come on, boss, you gotta come with me. I can't test drive a car on my own…"

"What's wrong with the Taurus?" Tony could almost see Gibbs's eyebrows rising down the phone line, could sense the senior agent's annoyance that Tony didn't appreciate what he'd done in having the vehicle adapted and assigned to him.

"What's right with it? It's not mine. Sorry but...I wouldn't feel comfortable if…well, I just…"

"All right, DiNozzo, I get it." Gibbs suddenly smiled, realizing what was going through the younger man's head. "Sunday, okay?"

"Thanks, boss." He hung up the phone, made a fist and punched the air, exclaiming, "Yes!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one. If anything changes, I'll let you know.

**A/N**: Many thanks to my co-creator, co-author, beta, and friend Alaidh for all her hours of work on this. Hope it was worth it, boo. Also many thanks to Abregaza, who did a pre-beta on this to help smooth over some choppy scene changes. And finally, thank you to my crazy, wonderful friends on MSN who have made this so worthwhile. Your support and lunacy are always appreciated.

One final note: With over 4,000 hits (thank you, enhanced stats) and over 50 reviews, obviously a lot of people have read, enjoyed and kept checking back for updates. Thanks to you all from Alaidh and myself. The response has been thrilling to us both, especially since the creative part has been so much fun…glad so many others been there to enjoy the results. Alas, this is the last installment of this particular story. Work has already started on a sequel…stay tuned, folks!

**Chapter 5**

_"No! Get away!" Tony felt his heart racing. He tried to run, but it was like his feet were stuck in cement. There was something dark and fluttery behind him, he could feel its presence, breathing down his neck, coming for him relentlessly. A black, flapping presence…He tried to move, but his legs were so…he couldn't move, couldn't run, then he was falling…_

Tony woke with a start, sweating. He could feel his heart pounding from the dream, like he'd been running a marathon. "Only you can't run a marathon, can you, fool," he said to the darkness. He gave a sigh and rolled over to study the single shaft of moonlight that came in the bedroom window. He never could sleep with the curtains closed – a result of the Louis XV vampire canopy bed his mother had forced on him in childhood. An involuntary shudder wracked his body at the thought of that bed and the vampire dreams it had caused – so bad that he had woken up screaming for weeks. Eventually, the bed was removed to parts unknown to him and peace had returned to his nights – at least, mostly peace – as much peace as the average five-year-old boy generated. He punched the pillow a couple of times and hugged it close, eyes closed.

_He was walking across the street in the direction of the house. It all looked innocent enough for the base of a terrorist group – an old clapboard dwelling in a slightly run-to-seed neighborhood. There was no one at home – they knew that from surveillance – a month of watching and waiting. He was almost across the street when he felt the impact pushing him forward. His legs would no longer support him…he was falling…_

Tony woke, shuddering, for a second time. The dream had been so real. He closed his eyes, a tear escaping the lids. "Dammit to hell," he said softly to himself, allowing himself a moment of grief for what he had lost. Giving up on the idea of sleep, he fumbled on the bedside table for the TV remote, and let the quiet drone of late night viewing lull him back to a feeling of peace.

"Hey, what happened to you?" Anne asked as Tony rolled into the rehab center gym for a scheduled outpatient PT session the following afternoon. "You look like you were hit by a truck." She touched the bruise on his right cheek, making him flinch away. He looked haggard, tired.

Tony looked at her sheepishly. "Fell and hit my head on the coffee table," he said.

"You need to be more careful."

"Yeah," he summoned up a wan smile.

"You look kinda tired. You sleep all right?" She gestured for him to climb up on a workout bench.

"No, not really," he admitted with a shrug, hoisting himself up.

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah," he said. "Silly, isn't it." He gave a wry smile.

"No, no, it's not silly," she replied firmly. "Going home – that's a big thing, and sometimes that kind of can trigger nightmares…bad dreams…insomnia…whatever." She pulled off his shoes and helped him lie back on the bench so she could start working through his stretches.

"Haven't had nightmares since I was a kid," Tony continued. "My mom made me sleep in this big old bed – the sort with a canopy. Louis XV – antique actually. I believe she paid a lot of money for it." Anne actually felt the shudder that rippled through his body at the thought of that bed. "Damn thing made me dream of vampires. Haven't been able to sleep with the curtains closed ever since."

Anne gave him a sympathetic smile. "And you dreamt of vampires last night?"

Tony grimaced and stared up at the ceiling. "That and other things."

Anne fixed on the "other things", mulling that over. "And?"

"I…" Tony hesitated. "I had a flashback…of the shooting."

"Oh."

"Going home…the changes…they just…" Tony stopped. "Dammit, why is this so hard?" He thumped his fist on the side of the bench. "I guess it sort of drove things home – that this is forever. I felt like I'd been…"

"Violated? Raped?"

"Something like that."

"Oh, Tony," she said, putting down his leg and giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You never had any counseling, did you, after the shooting, I mean."

"No."

"Back where I come from, a cop involved in a shooting – whether the shooter or shootee –" she grinned at the terms she used, "they get counseling. You want me to see if I can get you an appointment in psych?"

"No!"

"Okay, but you gotta get some sleep."

"It'll pass."

"Yeah," she said, looking at him doubtfully.

**Sunday, August 15**

Gibbs, good as his word, was at Tony's place by 10:00 am on a sparkling Sunday morning. "Morning, boss," said Tony, letting him into the apartment. "Just printing out some possibilities," he said, nodding toward the computer. "Just give me a minute." While Tony continued with what he was doing, Gibbs walked into the kitchen and helped himself to coffee from the machine, taking note of the changes. "Thought we'd take the Taurus. That way if I find something…well, you can drive it back for me, right?"

"Sure, DiNozzo. That's what I'm here for." Gibbs, coffee in hand, walked back into the living room and peered over Tony's shoulder at the computer monitor, squinting at the tiny letters on the screen.

Tony looked over his shoulder at Gibbs.

"You ready to go?"

"Yup," Tony replied, unlocking his brakes. He handed Gibbs a few sheets of paper and reversed away from the desk. "Let's go."

"You look like hell," said Gibbs as they boarded the elevator to descend to the garage. "What happened to your face?"

"Nothing," Tony replied, lightly touching the fading bruise on his cheek.

"Sure," Gibbs responded, his tone unbelieving. "You wanna be more careful, DiNozzo. Falling and hitting your head like that could give you concussion."

"I didn't…" Tony looked up and saw the knowing expression on Gibbs' face. "Anne."

"Anne."

Tony gave a sigh of surrender. "I wasn't paying enough attention to what I was doing," he finally admitted.

Gibbs gave the evil smile he reserved for when he caught one of his staff members out. "You're gonna have to start paying more attention, DiNozzo. I don't employ clumsy oafs."

"Right, boss."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Gibbs whisked the wheelchair out of the way as soon as Tony was settled in the car and popped the trunk release. "I'll stow this for you," he said.

Tony was a little unsure about Gibbs putting the chair in the trunk. He didn't think he wanted it so far away. Gibbs couldn't help noticing how light the wheelchair was, now that he had it in his control. He could understand Tony's enthusiasm, especially compared to the clunker he'd had at first. It took him a minute to figure out how to pop the wheels and load the various pieces, while Tony started the engine and waited. Gibbs slammed down the lid and slid into the passenger seat. He already had his glasses on to peer at the map and direct Tony to the first destination as they pulled out of the parking garage.

Tony drove the car into a small car lot. Gibbs took off out of the car at a fast walk as soon as Tony turned off the engine and before he had a chance to remind his boss that the wheelchair was in the trunk. Tony sat stewing in the car, tapping the steering wheel with the fingers of one hand with the precision of a military drummer, as he waited for Gibbs to realize he was stranded.

Gibbs wandered around, looking at a couple of cars. He could see a solitary salesperson inside the office on the phone, and gave them a wave. The blare of a horn caught his attention, as Tony finally lost patience. He turned to see an obviously annoyed DiNozzo gesturing at him, the trunk of the Taurus already open. Gibbs looked at him, arms open in a supplicating gesture. "What?" he mouthed.

Tony pointed back over his shoulder and mouthed back, "Wheelchair."

Gibbs replied, "Sorry," and started to walk back, although Tony caught a look on his face that was far from sorry. He narrowed his eyes at his boss on catching the tiniest hint of a grin.

"Sorry, forgot you needed this," said Gibbs, handing Tony the pieces of the wheelchair to assemble, figuring it would be faster than putting it together himself. Gibbs grin still negatived the apology, although Tony couldn't see it this time as he had his head bowed in the process of assembling the chair.

Tony gave a loud sigh, his expression wry. "Next time, why don't you just handcuff me to the car and completely immobilize me," he snapped as he transferred.

"Hey, I said I'm sorry."

"Sure, Gibbs." He watched his boss walk off, not really believing in the apology, as the salesperson, now off the phone, approached. Something about his feeling of helplessness when Gibbs walked off without giving him the wheelchair triggered the quick flash of an image from his dreams of the last few nights. The nightmares hadn't yet faded, although he stubbornly persisted in wanting to try to work things through on his own. He was even trying the method he'd seen used by Gibbs on children, "I will not let this control me. I will not dream about it…" he recited the mantra each night as he climbed into bed.

Tony drew near to Gibbs and the salesperson, a large woman in a voluminous pair of jeans with what appeared to be hand-painted flowers running up the legs, and a white cotton button up top with baggy sleeves. Her long dark hair, lightly streaked with gray, was done in the kind of half-up, half-down style that went out of fashion in about 1973. _Hmm, looks like a hippy,_ Tony thought to himself.

"…he'll have to tell you what he's looking for because I really have no idea," Gibbs was saying.

"What he's looking for," Tony stated firmly, "is a mid-sixties mustang in good working order. One with an automatic transmission."

"Oh, you're here about the '68 'Stang. Sorry, you're out of luck. Sold it an hour ago," the woman said. "By the way, name's Ruth."

"Tony," he said, reaching up to take the proffered hand in a shake. He must have looked a little downcast. "Now, on the other hand, if you were looking for a bus, I have the perfect vehicle for you." Ruth gestured to a far corner of the car yard, pointing out what appeared to be an old GMC bus with a pair of parasitic twin VW Vanagons welded to the roof. One of them even had a metal chimney coming from the top.

Tony, giggling slightly, looked at Gibbs. Gibbs looked at Tony. "Um…thanks…but…um…no."

The woman looked crestfallen. "It's very reliable."

Tony, for once, selected his words carefully, "It's hardly…practical, though. I mean, undoubtedly…" He studiously avoided looking at Gibbs, who was having a hard time not grinning.

"It has a wood burning stove and two double bedrooms," Ruth said.

"Look, I'm guessing it has stairs, and being honest, that's not much good to me," he finally said, finding the words for an excuse. He tapped one wheel with a long forefinger. "Wheelchairs and stairs…not a good combination."

"But…I have to sell her. My other baby is jealous..."

Tony looked at her questioningly.

Ruth pointed to her right. Tony almost choked on his laughter when he saw what Ruth was referring to. Parked just off the lot was a Volkswagen Westfalia. On the flat front where the VW was supposed to be was a huge set of lips. The headlights sported a set of lovely long eyelashes.

"Meet Kelly the Kombi."

"Kombi?"

"That's what they're called in Australia."

"Ah! I love Aussies!"

"Well, Kelly's not for sale."

Tony and Gibbs exchanged long-suffering looks, trying very hard not to laugh. Gibbs eventually made a slight nod in the direction of the Taurus, a barely perceptible movement picked up by DiNozzo but not by the saleswoman. "Thanks, Ruth. Come on, boss, let's go." Tony made an incisive turn and headed back to the Taurus. He already had the wheelchair stowed in the back seat by the time Gibbs joined him. They both promptly started to giggle uncontrollably.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The second vehicle on the list was a private sale. Tony had phoned the guy earlier that morning and obtained an address.

"What are we looking at next?" Gibbs asked, more curious this time.

"'66 Mustang convertible," Tony said. "Guy said he bought it a year ago from some old lady." Tony shrugged, indicating he didn't entirely believe that statement, and Gibbs' snort of derision confirmed what he thought.

_"Nice car," commented Gibbs._

_"Oh, it's not just a car, boss," Tony enthused. "This is a '66 Mustang – revolutionary in its day."_

_Gibbs fixed Tony with a glare. "You're not gonna start giving me the vital stats on this car, are you."_

_Tony disregarded Gibbs and continued, "Thunderball used that…"_

_Gibbs then stated firmly, "Let me rephrase that, DiNozzo. You're not gonna give me the vital stats on this car."_

Gibbs came back to the present with a jolt.

"But Gibbs, you don't understand! It's a classic!"

"Yes, Tony, you've said that…" Gibbs replied with a mental eye roll.

"But, Gibbs!"

"Tony…" Gibbs sighed. "I came with you to buy a car…I don't want to listen to a bunch of boring stats on it. Got it?"

"Yes, boss." DiNozzo sounded contrite, or maybe even sulky.

The shiny dark green vehicle was parked in front of an old apartment block that was obviously a converted three-storey house. There was a small strip of grass in front of the building and some wooden stairs. The open front door revealed more stairs within. "Nice car," Gibbs commented as they both peered into the interior of the classic '66 Mustang.

Tony looked over at the building and winced at the steps.

"Apartment F. I'll go," Gibbs said, seeing his expression. Gibbs was back a few minutes later with a young man with dark curly hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, in tow. "Tony, this is Gordon. He's the one selling the car."

"Hiya, Gordon."

If Gordon was taken aback at seeing a man in a wheelchair, he gave no sign, just stuck out his hand in a firm handshake.

"Hey," he said. "What d'ya wanna know?"

"How long have you owned it?"

"About a year. Bought it from some old lady, said she'd had it since it was new. She had all the log books, so no reason not to believe her."

Tony's ears pricked at Gordon's speech, particularly the pronunciation of the word "about".

"You're Canadian!" he exclaimed. "Why is it almost every Canadian guy I've met is named Gordon?"

"Dunno," Gordon replied, "But there sure are an awful lot of us, eh." He gave a lop-sided grin. Tony grinned back at the obvious "Canadianism."

Gibbs clicked his tongue, warning Tony to get on with it. "So, Gordon, have you made any modifications? Had any major work done?"

"Nope, not really. The car is pretty much as I bought it," he stated. "All I've done is some respraying and regular servicing. The old lady had had power steering fitted – that's not standard, but other than that…"

Gibbs and Tony exchanged looks. Gibbs could almost hear Tony's brain ticking over, running the math. This, on a cursory look, appeared to be a very good vehicle in excellent condition, at least as far as the bodywork was concerned. "Would you mind starting the engine?" Tony asked, "and could you pop the hood as well." Tony grinned as Gordon got in and turned the key, causing the motor to roar to life then settle into a healthy V8 throb. Gordon also opened the hood, leaving the engine still running. Tony pushed forward to see into the engine. The engine was reasonably clean, with only the usual collection of grime around joins and things. Tony ran a cautious hand along the nearest of the spark plug leads, checking for worn spots where they may have been arcing. He couldn't see any obvious scorching, and the leads were well spaced – not touching, but that didn't mean damage couldn't have been done in the past. The radiator hoses were new – still showroom shiny, as was the radiator itself. Tony flicked a glance back over his shoulder as Gibbs' shadow loomed into the engine bay. Gibbs was grinning. "Why are you selling it?" Tony asked, placing both hands on the hand rims of the chair in preparation for moving.

"Moving back to Montreal," Gordon replied. "It's not really practical up there to own something like this – I'd have to keep it in storage four months of the year."

"Ah, Montreal," Tony replied, nodding thoughtfully.

"No, no, not M_aw_ntreal, it's M_u_ntreal," Gordon replied, correcting his pronunciation.

"Oh, okay, M_u_ntreal." Gibbs stepped aside as Tony backed away from the front of the vehicle, turned and made his way to the nearer of the two front wheels. He reached down low, running a hand under the mudguard to check for rust, then ran his fingers over the tread. There was a couple of months' wear on the tires, and they were forming sharp edges on the tread – feathering – normally caused by inaccurate alignment. "You got a record of the servicing?"

"Sure. It's in the glove compartment," Gordon said, leaning into the car.

"The tires are feathering. When were they replaced?" Tony asked.

Gordon thumbed through a spiral bound exercise book. "About…three months ago."

"Did you get an alignment done?"

"Of course."

"They obviously didn't do it properly. Here, let me show you. Run your hand over the tread. Can you feel the sharp edges?"

"Whoa, yeah." Gordon rubbed his fingers where the sharp rubber had prickled.

Gibbs nodded, realizing that Tony actually knew what he was doing.

"That should be covered by the warranty from the tire place, I think," Gordon said. "I have all the receipts upstairs. I can check that."

Tony held out a hand for the exercise book. "Can I see that, please?"

"Oh, sure." Gordon handed it over. The pages rustled as Tony quickly flicked through the record of regular servicing, including dates and what was done. Tony was impressed with the completeness of the records, including respraying and repairs to the bodywork, which were the earliest additions, right up to an oil change the previous week, which noted the mileage as 89,784.

Gibbs took the book out of Tony's hands and flicked through the pages himself, surprising both Tony and Gordon by his action. He handed the book back to Gordon. "Can we get on with this, please?" he asked, transmitting his ennui with the proceedings.

Tony looked longingly at the driver's seat. "Dammit, I wish I could take it for a test drive…" he said, and sighed loudly.

"That's…what you brought me for," Gibbs reminded him.

"I know, but…it's not the same." Tony's voice took on a plaintive note. "Gonna be cramped with the three of us…we're all pretty big…and there's the wheelchair as well…" Gordon looked at them both doubtfully.

Gibbs gave Gordon an annoyed look, and got into the car without being asked. "Tony?"

"Yes, boss," Tony replied, his response automatic.

"Get in the car." He looked at Gordon, "You, too. I'm not wasting my whole Sunday on this."

Tony looked up at Gordon and shrugged. "Better do what he said. Don't want him gettin' pissy on us."

"It's gonna be a little too crowded with the three of us in there, so you two go ahead, 'kay?" Gordon said.

Gibbs gave him a confused look. "You're kidding, right? You don't know us from Adam."

Gordon shrugged. "You don't exactly look like a couple of car thieves."

Gibbs rolled his eyes at that and said under his breath, "Are all Canadians this trusting?" He added to Gordon, "Get in the back; we might have some more questions for you."

Tony grinned at the exchange between Gibbs and Gordon while he swung the passenger door open and pushed into the gap to transfer. He gently nudged the chair in next to the seat, bumping up against the metal scuff-plate that protected the outer edge of the sill panel and transferred in, pleasantly surprised by how easy it was in the low-slung vehicle. After he had placed the pieces of the wheelchair into the back seat behind Gibbs, Gordon eased himself over into the back seat, sitting partially sideways to accommodate his long legs – he was taller than Gibbs, probably more Tony's height, and more substantial – broad across the back, with solid legs and muscular arms. It took some effort to fold himself in. Gibbs put the car into gear and drove off sedately enough, although Tony knew enough to hold on when he suddenly started to accelerate, a wicked grin on his face, and the muffled curse from Gordon in the back only made that grin wider.

"How much you askin' for this baby?" Gibbs asked, pulling up in front of the apartment block ten minutes later.

"Eighteen thousand," Gordon replied, gulping as he recovered from Gibbs' driving. He cautiously unfolded himself and stepped out of the car on shaky legs.

Tony transferred back out. "Eighteen," he considered. "Well, the suspension needs work – she was bouncing a little on some o' the bends back there, wasn't she, boss?"

"Yup."

"And there's the alignment." Tony looked up at Gordon, his face all innocence. "I'm prepared to offer…" he bit his lower lip as he thought, "sixteen."

"Hmm," Gordon replied, considering. "If we can split the difference on seventeen, we got a deal."

Tony had to work hard to contain his delight. "Done," he said, accepting another handshake from the big Canadian.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Left my car out front. You wanna drop me off there?" Gibbs asked as they drew up to Tony's apartment building, having left the Mustang at Gibbs' house for him to arrange the hand control conversion. The smile had hardly left Tony's face all the way back.

"You're not gonna come in?" Tony asked. "Got beer and…"

"Nope."

Tony froze when he saw the dark blue Shelby with the white racing stripes in the visitors' parking lot in front of the building. He hadn't noticed it when they left that morning. "Um, Gibbs?"

"Yes, Tony?"

"Nice car."

"Sure is." Gibbs grinned.

"Boss…"

"Yes, DiNozzo."

"You bought my car? I can't believe you bought my car…"

Gibbs just responded with an enigmatic smile. He shut the door of the Taurus firmly, gave a quick wave and drove off in the Cobra while Tony stared after him, engine running, until long after he had driven off, too stunned to move.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Wednesday**

Tony, a towel wrapped around his neck, had to hurry from the bathroom when he heard the phone ringing, realizing after half a dozen rings that he had once again forgotten to turn on the answering machine. "Hello," he said, wiping the last of the shaving cream from his face with a corner of the towel.

"This Mr. DiNozzo?" a rough voice asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "And you are..."

"Peter from Magic Motors. Boss asked me to call and let you know your car's ready."

Tony couldn't suppress a smile that even penetrated his voice. "That's great news. What's your address? I didn't drop the car off…" Tony scribbled an address and some rough directions on the back of a bill he'd left on the desk beside the phone. "Thanks. Be there in…an hour or so." He gave a happy sigh as he dropped two fingers onto the cradle to break the connection. He then called Gibbs and left a message on his voicemail. "Boss, the car's ready. Can you arrange for someone from the motor pool to come and get the Taurus?" Finally, he called a cab.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tony could hardly take his eyes off the shiny green vehicle on the forecourt of the garage. The car gleamed with drops of water, where they had apparently washed it. Tony paid the cabby, almost overpaying in his haste, and quickly made his way into the office. A few minutes later, having checked that the fuel gauge read a little over half-full, he was nosing the sports car into the traffic and heading for the nearest freeway, delighting in the responsiveness of the powerful motor. Gibbs' had managed to find a hand-control that didn't require any invasive alterations to the dashboard area of the car. The foot pedals, however, had been changed to the flip up kind, giving him more foot room, while still being available for an able-bodied driver. With the wind whipping through his hair, he screamed a loud, "Woohoo!" of joy at the feeling of liberation he felt as he hit the open road.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Monday morning, August 23**

The dark green '66 Mustang pulled into the nearest handicapped parking spot to the door of NCIS headquarters. Tony pulled the pieces of a wheelchair across and assembled them. He gave a big sigh and braced himself before transferring. He reached into the back of the car for his backpack, which he slung over the backrest of the chair, and a large, flat parcel that he balanced on his knees carefully. He looked over at the doorway, grateful for the lack of steps, and grinned. This was gonna be fun.

"Hey, McGee," he said, seeing his fellow-agent walking across the parking lot, a large box held in front of him. "Can you give me a hand?"

"Hey, sure, Tony." McGee took the package and balanced it on top of the box. "What're you doing here? I mean…"

Tony sighed. McGee hadn't changed, apparently. "McGee, would you just say what you mean the first time? Please?"

"Gibbs kinda plays things close to his chest." McGee shrugged as much as he was able in view of the load he was carrying.

"Figures," replied Tony, gripping the hand rims in preparation to move off. "For what it's worth, I'm starting back at work today."

"Welcome back." McGee's statement was affable enough, but Tony was amused to read the expression on his face clearly saying, "Could my life suck any harder?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Gibbs looked up as he rolled into the office. "Ah, DiNozzo, nice of you to join us."

"Sorry I'm late, boss. Traffic was a bitch."

"Don't let it happen again, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with deceptive mildness.

He caught Kate's grin from behind her screen and shrugged. "No, boss."

"Take your old desk."

"Sure. Ah…anybody want a chair?"

"Sorry, Tony." Kate stood up and walked around into Tony's cubicle.

"That's okay, Kate. I just don't need it any more." McGee handed Tony the parcel, which he dumped on the desk from his position in the passageway, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the simple statement caused his co-worker to wince until he looked up and caught her eye again. "What?"

"Nothing, Tony." She pushed the chair out of his way into the passageway and waited there, watching him, until he had moved in front of his workstation.

"What?"

"Just glad to have you back."

"Thanks, Kate." He smiled at her disarmingly.

"Yeah, now Gibbs has someone else to yell at."

"Ha-ha! I've missed that…not," he grinned.

Gibbs gave Tony a few minutes to get settled before dumping the box McGee had been carrying on his desk. "Here you go," he said.

"What's that, boss?"

"Cold cases."

Tony looked at Gibbs aghast. "Cold cases?"

"You picked a bad day to come back. Things are a little quiet right now. Cheer up. I could be sending you to the lecture on sexual harassment."

DiNozzo looked at his boss in absolute horror. "Cold cases," he affirmed, reaching for the first file.

An hour later, Gibbs had to wonder if bringing DiNozzo back was a good move. It seemed that the whole building had stopped by Tony's desk to say "hi", and as far as he was concerned, the rubbernecking was getting irritating. Tony's desk, opposite his own, was far too close for the amount of conversation that was happening. He was prepared to cut the agent a little slack, but practically the only person in the immediate staff who hadn't stopped by was Abby, who had been scheduled to attend a seminar on DNA analysis for half the day. On the other hand, Tony seemed to be reveling in the attention. The grin hadn't left his face from the time the first visitor had stopped by. Five minutes of quiet were a relief for his boss.

The phone on Gibbs' desk started to ring. Gibbs answered curtly, then looked across and called out, "DiNozzo! You're wanted up in Human Resources."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Human Resources were located in a small section at the rear of the second floor, consisting of a manager with a couple of office staff. The manager, a gray-haired woman of fifty-something years, who tried, unsuccessfully, to pass for younger, waved him into a small corner office with a view of the parking lot as she issued some instructions to the office junior.

"Mr. DiNozzo, nice of you to come up so quickly," she said, closing the office door and taking a seat.

"No problem," he replied. Tony read a nametag on the front edge of the desk curiously - Margaret Tomlinson, Human Resources Manager. "Ms Tomlinson."

She smiled at him and centered a file on her desk. Tony, leaning slightly forward, could just make out his name on the side tab. "Firstly, do you have a medical certificate clearing you for light duties?"

"Here you go," he said, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket.

She perused the document, then opened the file and handed him a plastic card. "Here's your new security pass. You've been given parking spot 16 in the secure parking lot. It's at the end of the first row. Should be easy for you to access the building from there. We've also had a contractor install grab bars so you can pull yourself up to use the eye scanners in order to allow you access to the building elevators and the MTAC room."

"Thank you," Tony replied.

"Now, the Director has requested that you undergo a medical examination to ensure your fitness to return to work." She handed him a card with details of a name, address, date and time on the back. "This is the appointment. Failure to attend will result in you being suspended from duty indefinitely until you _do_ undergo the examination."

"Okay," Tony replied, although he was finding the whole process rather tiresome.

"I think that's all. Welcome back."

"Thanks," Tony replied, more warmly this time, pushing the card down into his pocket. "Good to be back." He gave her a grin, then reversed out of the tiny office.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"…and there on the front porch was a guy in a wheelchair who didn't have any arms or legs."

Tony's voice filtered down the passage as he spoke to Gerald, whom he had met on his way from the elevator.

Tony continued, "The woman asked why the man was there. He said, 'I'm here about the ad you put in the paper. As you can see, I have no arms, so I can't beat you, and I have no legs, so I can't run away from you.'" Kate winced, having already heard the joke from him earlier.

"'Yes, but are you good in bed?" the woman asked.

"How do you think I rang the doorbell?"

Gerald guffawed loudly. "Good one, Tony!" and turned off in the opposite direction as Tony headed for his desk.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Monday 1.20 pm**

Kate, Ducky and Tony occupied the outer edge of the sidewalk café, plates in front of them. An uncomfortable silence lingered between Kate and Tony, while Ducky filled the gaps with an interminable story, the whole point of which was lost on the other two. Tony rolled his eyes at Kate over the top of his cheeseburger.

Kate suddenly spoke what was on her mind, looking directly at her co-agent. "I don't know how to talk to you any more," she said uncomfortably. That silenced the medical examiner, and he waited for Tony's response.

"You…might try using your mouth," Tony replied grinning. "It's not contagious, you know."

"What isn't?"

"Galloping wheelchair disease."

Kate pulled a face, wrinkling her nose. "You know what I mean."

"Kate, forget about the wheels. I'm still that same lovable Tony from before," he said, smiling broadly. "…just…shorter." His expression became thoughtful. "Yeah, shorter." As if to prove a point, he reached across the table with a fork and harpooned a piece of tuna from her salad, earning himself a cuff on the back of the head. "Hey, don't hit me, okay?"

"Then stop stealing my food," Kate responded sharply.

Ducky, who had been trying not to laugh, let out a snicker at that. "Ah, it's good to have you back, my boy," he said.

"Thanks, Ducky." Tony adopted an expression of mock seriousness. "Look, about the talking thing…Just don't tower above me...try to come down to my level."

"Tony, I could never descend to your level."

"'Cause I get reeaal pissy with a crick in my neck," he continued, flashing her a quick smile. "Other than that…"

"Anything goes?" Kate said sweetly. "I'll keep that in mind." She smiled, finally realizing that not much had changed when she saw Tony's expression and how his eyes followed the progress of a short-skirted 20-something with an only-just-there top and long blonde hair sashaying down the other side of the street. He didn't take off in pursuit as he had on previous occasions, but Kate could almost see him salivating. "Earth to DiNozzo."

"Huh?"

She tapped her watch. "Time to go, loverboy."

Kate pulled out a couple of bills and handed them to Ducky. However, when Tony reached into his inside jacket pocket to do the same, she stilled his hand. "Today's on us. Consider it your…welcome back party."

"Thanks, guys." The grin couldn't have been any wider. "Nice to know you care."

"You two children run along," said the ME. "I think I'll partake of a little more sunshine before heading back."

Kate and Tony made their way back to Kate's car, parked a short way down the street. Tony concentrated on leaving a wide gap between himself and Kate, trying to avoid crashing into her on the rough pavement as it directed the front casters every which way. It gave her the opportunity to study him at close range.

"You know, in that wheelchair and all, you look a lot like the guy from that TV show."

"What TV show?"

"You know, the one with all the genetically enhanced kids and that cyber guy, lived in a penthouse. Conscience of the nation, whatever."

Tony stopped to look at her, puzzled. "What are you talking about, Kate?"

"Can't remember the name."

Tony thought for a moment. "You mean the one in Seattle or whatever it was, and there's this virus and…"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Ya think so? Didn't like it much. He was kinda dorky and, really, all that angst…Mind you, the chick…she was really hot."

Kate looked at him, the speculative expression he wore, and laughed. "Come on, before Gibbs puts us under house arrest."

Tony waited beside the car while Kate fumbled in her handbag for the keys. A couple of old ladies were passing on the street, and looked at him kindly. "Oh, you poor young man. How did you end up in a wheelchair?" one of them asked.

Tony was ready with a response, his expression deadpan. "Well, I'm sure she didn't mean it, but you never know what will happen in the throes of passion..."

Kate looked up from her bag and clouted him soundly across the back of the head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, and then burst into giggles as the two old ladies slowly backed away, shocked expressions on their faces. He choked out through giggles, "What was that for?"

"For making a pair of old dears think I'm some kind of sexual pervert."

"Yeah, but it was funny, wasn't it?"

Kate rolled her eyes, finally locating the keys. She clicked the button on the remote to unlock the doors. "Just get in the car before I leave you here," she said wearily, and wondered why she'd been so glad to have him back.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**NCIS Headquarters, 4.05 pm**

"Gibbs, got video on that terrorist cell in New Westminster…looks like they just went active." Kate's voice interrupted Gibbs' train of thought.

"Put it up on the plasma," Gibbs replied, standing to walk around in front of the screen.

Tony, who had been deeply engrossed in a file, instantly forgot what he was reading and swung to the right, swiveling to try and see the screen, thereby hooking the phone cord that wrapped around the side of his desk. Gibbs winced at the crash as the phone hit the ground. "Ah, crap!" Tony exclaimed, looking down at where the cable was tangled around the caster. "Kate, can you give me a hand here?" He looked to her for help as being the closest to his desk, Gibbs long strides having already taken him around the front of his desk.

Kate looked down at the floor then back up at Tony, "Were you always such a klutz?" she asked sarcastically, crouching down to the floor.

"Nooooooo," he said. "Only when you're around, Kate," he said sweetly.

She looked up at him and grinned.

"Okay, can you just back up a little…straighter…" Kate held the cord down so he could roll over it without tangling again. He pulled up with a clunk as the backrest hit the printer desk behind him.

Kate reached under the front desk and unplugged the phone so the cord could be moved around to the other side, intending to thread it through the cable hole used by the computer screen rather than wrapping it around the side of the desk.

"Thanks, Kate."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling up at him. She gathered up the phone, doubling over the cord, then stood out of the way to let him pass.

Tony eyed the gap between the two desks, and tried to swing around to pass through, banging his foot hard on the side of the front one as he turned. "Hmm, that probably hurt," he said, grimacing. "It's…just a touch cozy in here. Has somebody moved my desk?" he asked, thinking that the gaps on either side seemed narrower than they had been prior to his being shot. Moving back slightly, and swinging further out to push forward to the right of the front desk, he caught his elbow on the edge of the rear desk. "Ouch! Now that _did_ hurt," he said, stopping to rub his elbow.

"Klutz," murmured Kate.

Tony gave her an ironic smile before pushing off to join Gibbs.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tony became quiet when he realized that McGee and Gibbs would be going to the site of the terrorist operation and leaving Kate and him behind. This is what he was going to miss – the chance to prove his physical prowess as a field officer. He was already working out in his brain how he could get into the field again. Crime scene sketches were a possibility – at least where the crime scene had wheelchair access, he acknowledged, and he was an expert at them. But under cover and terrorist operations – that was a whole other kettle of fish. He had already come up with several impossible scenarios even before fronting up to work that morning. He hadn't realized how inadequate it would make him feel when the other members of Gibbs' team were able to head out so easily, at barely a moment's notice, leaving him jockeying a desk.

"Kate, you're in charge while I'm gone." Gibbs flung the instruction across from behind his workstation as he prepared to go.

"Hey, I'm senior!" Tony couldn't help expressing his indignation.

"He's right, Gibbs," Kate agreed, looking up.

Tony heard Gibbs' long-suffering sigh from his desk. "Okay. DiNozzo, you're in charge of the office while I'm gone. Kate – you're in charge of DiNozzo. Don't let him get out of line."

"Sure, Gibbs." She grinned across at Tony, hearing him grumble mightily at that. Something about being capable of looking after himself, not needing any one in charge of him.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**4.30 pm**

"Thanks, Kate, I'll take it from here," Tony said, taking the parcel he had brought into the office that morning from Kate.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine," he said. "I want to see her alone."

Kate nodded and hit the button to go back up.

Tony slowly made his way from the elevator to the lab, his movements careful. "Hey, Abbs," he said softly from the doorway, his voice barely audible over the heavy metal pounding through the speakers. A brilliant Tony smile lit his handsome face as she spun her chair to face him. "Ya miss me?"

"Tony!" Abby exclaimed, returning his million-megawatt grin with one of her own. She rushed to hug him, mindful of the large package precariously balanced across his knees.

"Brought you a present," he said, moving forward into the room, trying not to knock the parcel off his lap. He handed her the gift, which was carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with several loops of string.

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Open it and see."

Abby looked at him, then accepted the parcel, spinning around to place it on the desk. She sat in the chair and opened a desk drawer, looking for something to cut the string. She sliced it away with a knife, tossing it in the trash before unwrapping the paper. Abby turned the contents right way up, and frowned. "But this is…"

"Yeah. I thought you'd like to have a matching set." Tony grinned, and turned to look up at the empty space on the wall where the shotgun-shattered backbone had been hanging when last he had visited the lab. The smile wavered, and he fumbled for the hand-rim to swivel around to face her. "Abbs?" he queried. "Where is it?"

"I-I took it down."

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, his expression puzzled.

Abby bit her lip uncomfortably, unable to comprehend how the former field agent could be so sanguine. For his part, Tony looked up into the goth's eyes, and saw in them the pain she felt for the first time. "Abbs?" A shadow passed over his face, and he took a deep breath before rolling forward. "Abby, it's okay. Really."

"Really?" Abby looked at him doubtfully.

"Yeah, really." He grinned at her impishly, the hormonal teenage boy in him bubbling to the surface. "It's a total chick-magnet, ya know."

She looked at him reflectively for a moment, seeing the faint outline of one of the contact lenses he wore to hide from Gibbs the fact that his eyes weren't as perfect as he claimed, before turning her chair far enough to pick up the framed MRI, studying the cross-section professionally. Seeming to come to a decision, she stood and crossed the room, stretching up to catch the wire at the back over the hook on the wall where the cross-section of the damage caused by a twelve-gage to an L3 to L5 had formerly hung. She stood back to admire the colorful image, adjusting the angle minutely. Then sweeping a glance past the ice pick to the cerebellum, she turned to the third image in the set, the one she had named "Blast from the Future" – a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the abdomen. "This one doesn't quite fit in with the theme," she said, to Tony's amusement. He wondered what the theme was this time – murder or attempted murder, obviously suicide didn't fit in. Definitely a continuation of the Manson family thing, as far as he was concerned. She swapped the image for the one she pulled out of the corner between two cupboards, blowing off a fine layer of dust after she pulled it out of its niche. "There, perfect," she grinned. "Thanks."

"No problem, Abbs," Tony responded, giving her a backhanded wave as he headed for the door.

"Tony?"

He looked back over his shoulder at her.

"Glad to have you back."

"Good to be back," he replied.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Final A/N: The two weird motor vehicles mentioned in this chapter actually exist. They can be found here (cut and past the links and remove the extra spaces)

www. Parasitickombis.jpeg

VWwithlips.JPG

Th-th-th-the…That's all folks!


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